Hands tucked into the sleeves of your sweatshirt
You have come to eradicate me
The Left digging a 6 foot trench into the cotton lining
The Right pulling the hammer back
Loaded with a few shells of disintegrating memories
The permeating stains of lover’s past caught from under your fingernails
Burning through your chipped black nail polish
Pull the trigger and make a canvas of these sheets
Your watermark a lingering cobweb in the attic of my veins
Dig in
Kiss me like you do in my nightmares
Where I can taste the stomach acid on your breath
We will share a tombstone of paper with fringes at the corners
Our flailing bodies dancing in the dust
Your ragdoll carcass twirling from my arms and into the wind
A bullet in the chamber
My hands recoiling somewhere inside the sleeves of your sweatshirt
The Quill 