There is nothing more to me

By Nicky Wilson, with commentary from Srishti Kadu

than the way my pretty nicotine teeth chewed my bottom lip
the surface no longer naïve, you like it scarlet

your opened palms invited my consciousness to rest, unused to contact
it fell to my bedroom carpet, adapted to your love

the sound of traffic outside often become your sexton,
providing holes in which your thoughts will occupy,

“Never mind.”

on the bed my body as its blanket, chest and face on the frigid mattress
and back to the hanging low sky, forever bigger than us

I inhaled the despondency, reluctant but compulsive
transmuted you’re your “Nothings…” to my every monsters

no words were transcribed and stitched alike before,
my sternum held by my weak desperate hands

pressed

down

as I craved for
what you meant.

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