Enough

I still remember the blank canvas of your face The dull, stupid glare of your eyes like headlights on the highway And I remember how I wanted to paint the canvas with autumn-colored kisses How I wanted to see the brush strokes of my lips sweeping across your cheekbones But I can’t even speak Dragonflies on my lips Glass-colored wings against my mouth like kisses That you’ll never give Through sin-streaked glass I see the moon perched like God On red brick It must have been then when I surrendered Since then I have been a ghost Walking in waters where fish linger like photographs My footprints are thunder in the dark sky I almost laugh to think that you left so much, and I so little I still remember your hands like deserts, fingerprints like red sand Across my vulnerable stomach A trail of sun-colored bruises where your knuckles brushed my neck. If I try I can forget the smoky way your fingers curled around my hip And your question mark smile. But now I’m bleeding from the in-between— I can’t say it, not in the coal-dark night, Where we tangled together in blue cotton sheets Kisses like constellations across my back, Orion’s Belt sweeps over my collarbone If I try I can forget the way lightning danced across my skin When your fingertips adored me, As you hurt me As you broke me And killed my spirit.