The razor wires you pull across my taught skin
are ripping it in places
allowing for jewels of my blood to bloom
and melt in the hazy atmosphere
dulled down by your smoke
I feel nothing as I watch you
Mark the paces in an abstract state of mind
The shattered glass that is strewn around
Play the part of little mirrors
on which I see you, naked
Walk up to the antique ebony table and
Ease out a handful of black rose petals
From a very tall vase
And throw them up in the air like confetti
A celebratory mood
I moan
I shift on the cold cold cement
You turn on the radio
To some Etta James
and light a row of expensive candles
I can taste the pool of blood I am lying in
Face down
Happy Valentine’s Day,
You say.
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