new

I am digging you a hole inside

for you to leave your things- books

and photos we share

for when we reappear

in the blinking red darkness

that swarms like flies on leaking meat

too anxious to sleep,

but too afraid to peel ourselves apart

hasty when morning stretches out its transparent hands

and bedroom breath leaves our lungs

I'm keeping it here  for when you learn to love

sitting like an ulcered colon

a thick skin grown around it

encased in a shell of scars

waiting to be scratched at and crack open

oozing with the things you leave for me to feed on

that I nibble delicately in your presense

and ravage with snarling teeth when you're away

I wish you wouldn't go away

for the sake of the heaviness of your stretching

my cavity where life used to stay

tubes sucking nutrients through tethered straws

but now only you, and the bricks you lay there