hem slipping up to expose my own,
a garter wrapped around my left thigh:
fresh with conquest,
lasting impact of
your parting mouth that just
hangs there and hurts when I
under the picnic table.
a gesture of presence.
Someone told me to stop replaying old voicemails and
I needed a year to pass.
I scrubbed away the last of your fingernail but I have to
ride the bite marks out.
I stick out my tongue to catch all she had.
bold with my repentance
and ready to wash the phantomsaway.
the gray sky remembered
she had lightning.
I am the dark thing inside of me.