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i don't want you

to kiss her,
be with her

touch her

know her
look at her, or
smell her.
feel her breath
on the hair
curling over your collar
as she inhales you.
i don’t want you

to listen to her pretty words,
her lilting voice

lying about me.

no, don’t draw her closer
to you, no don’t.
i dont want your gaze
getting entangled

in her long hair.
i dont want you

to want her,

the way i want you.

smell

sweat, sarcasm and cigarets,
the smell of you,
is in my every pore,
curling down my back,
drawing me closer
to the buckle of that
snakeskin belt
slung low on five loops,
an exquiste caress of pain,
because i smell
the reluctance too, you know,
you don’t want me.

your beautiful hands,
that i’m holding,
in an aimless taxi ride,
are hoping your phone
will light up and rescue them
from my rough, life-scarred fingers.

you never look at me

directly, so i won’t see
that teeth grinding mix
pity and loathing,
but i know it’s there,
and there’s anger too,
because you know somewhere
inside that head of yours,
there’s a fleeting memory
of you and me.