baby, i Starved for you

my insides
tried to
tell us
you were not
nutritious,

to leave you,

but i ignored
them for three
long years.

the body
always knows
what’s good
for it.

i emptied
my bowels
of the
few morsels

of boy
i snacked
on before,

unhinged
my jaw,

and feasted
on you.

silly me,

i got food
poisoning;

developing
a taste for
rancid grub.

i refused
to acknowledge,

let alone
treat my
disease.

looking back
there were
So Many signs.

eventually,
i purged
my gut

til there was
nothing else.

nowadays,
i try three
square meals,

for the
most part.

but,
occasionally
eat my own
flesh out
of habit;

creating
someone new
from old cells.

“healthy
doesn’t
come cheap,”

or so
they say.

muting The echo

the only
thing
we ever
got right

was touching
each other.

do not
reverberate
off
skull walls

[playfully
poking me,

grabbing
my hips,

pulling
me
into you]

do not
speak in
our
voice,

use
our
mannerisms.

i see
you still
wear them;

stretching
them
across
your face
forĀ 

someone
else.

your voice,
a
bird-whistle;

you fill
any
room with

ear-shattering
sound.

i leave

because
you

make
-everything-
too crowded,

and
every move
of mine

a tactic
to run
into you.

Roots