there's this thing i want to tell you about fire.
fire, he says. and i say,
yes, fire.
and we hold still for a few short moments. let the words slip like secrets between old friends. until nothing happens. and we fall shuddering to sheets and he only says that dumb thing that the guy who stole my life from me said once after he broke my skull into bloody bits onto a dirty bathroom floor,
you're mine, he says
and i think, damn, i've been under this body before
and it only offered me up to emergency rooms
and lies to my best friends
and living a life, constantly, wearing false names
and being okay with the by words
i'm fine

and i am sick to death with lying
and avoiding phone calls
and with living a life like a lie
again