pickup lines for an emotional burnout with a poet complex
I place my hands on your throat
and hear a chasm humming.
You will spill it open at one in the morning
and I will surround you from every direction.
I will be careful when I swallow you up
because the world has gotten too loud.
I will bury you under my warm grave.
You will tell me the ugly things,
I will bathe them in your verse.
I will serve them in your meter
and ignore nine out of ten dentists to
kiss the sugar in between your rotting teeth.
I will hold your hair back while you
vomit depressing stanza after stanza.
I will understand that you love like sickness,
that you let yourself get infected
whenever it seems like someone
will listen to you.
I will break your stoic like an eggshell,
even if it gets my hands messy,
even though I have never gotten over
the childish fear of finding a dead thing inside.
If there is ever something dead inside,
we will bury the broken embryo in a box
in the backyard, and I will wash old hurt
out of your sleeves with laundry soap.
I will understand that even if you never ask,
I will take care of you
after you spend too much time alone
and stumble towards me like a wounded soldier
with swollen eyes and the ashes of salt.
You are a deeply needy thing,
you are a deeply needy thing,
you are a deeply needy thing
and that is beautiful.