It’s been a while since I’ve written anything, a while since I felt anything, a while since there was any kind of burning. And still that while persists.
Funeral arrangements for an oxygen thief
When you’re finally dead, I’ll keep your skull
and bones: one to remember your grin; the rest
to frame the hell you dug into my life.
Your tongue I’ll keep sheathed in my heart —
where you left it – and take it out
only to skin those few who held you dear. In a pickle jar,
your heart, preserved in its own piss: I’ll serve it
on special occasions, with toast, cream cheese and hot pepper
jelly. Your last breath I’ll give back to the world
you stole it from. The rest I’ll burn with Monday’s trash.