2nd priority mail

i remembered you lion-hearted,
but just insecure enough to let
me wrap my good intentions around
your neck to warm you with the
heat of all their purity.

people aren't games,
but we played each other as if
our backbones were life savings
begging to be gambled away.

you melted inside me until i could
no longer tell the difference between
each of my individual bones.

you started screaming the promises
that were whispering through my blood stream
straight into the gaps between my eyelashes,
telling me that i should've looked for you
at that goddamn bus stop under the rain that night.

you cracked into shrapnel,
told me you were stuck in the arms
of someone you didn't deserve to call lover -
said you felt like shit wasting her.

at that bus stop, there was rain.
there was rain, and at the bus stop

you told me you were safe in my arms.
that nothing bad ever happens to those who wait.

i collected you like a pile of postcards
mailed from woman to woman, each kissing
your frayed edges with their miss merlot
lips, then throwing you onto the nearest
delivery truck, not caring if you found
me or not.

that night at the bus stop under the rain,
you introduced me to yourself again.
i thought i knew the shapes of your worries
and the way your forehead felt when it was
pressed against mine, but little did i know
you had been hardened.

i don't often crack into bits & pieces of myself,
but that night at the bus stop under the rain,
i was dizzy in the least physical sense of the word.

that love affair coursed itself through my veins
so boldly that my thoughts pounded out like broken
verses of a song both of us were begging to forget.

i was asking too much - prayed for you to remember me
not for what i was
but all that i ever wanted to be.

that night at the bus stop under the rain,
you curled me into one of the springs
in the mattress you shared with her,
hoping that i could replace your mistakes.

but my coils are too tangled now, darling.
this time, i am not bouncing back up to hold you.