I don’t love you and I won’t. but
You’re like wine in my veins,
my head heavy, my body porous
to your words. I’m drunk
off optimism and I make poor decisions.
Your lips are a ghost in my dreams.
You are water in my lungs.
You are the gasping for breath,
the gap in my chest–the hollow part
of my broken heart. How naive of me,
to think a man could patch together
my skin with glue and paper money.
Next time I’ll only accept gold foil
coins and peach felt petals. Ride in
on your horse like death and I will
spit at your feet when you land.

[ write an un-love poem. ]