how many times can i say i love you

until you believe it

until i believe it

i imagine there are not enough minutes

in a day

in a year

in our lifetime

let’s just say goodbye, baby, before

we waste anymore time

Atwood Sumrall

love is not a profession

genteel or otherwise

sex is not denistry

the slick filling of aches and cavities

sex is the way you treat me

the lack of emotion and lust

you are not my doctor

you are not my cure

you are my heartache

you are my downfall

nobody has that power,

you are merely a fellow/traveller

give up this medical concern,

buttoned, attentive

it is fake thoughts of care,

kindness unfounded and unrealistic

permit yourself anger

and permit me mine

eyeliner&cigarettes

dark.ugly.beautiful eyes:

watching the world roll by

from beneath heavy

lashes laden with

bold/black/hardened/liquid

dreams

and sparkly bright

studs proclaiming desperate

sunshine promises

that float away like the

smooth milky white smoke

lifting away from

the end                       of

her cigarette