i hate chores but
i love you
a messy bun on a sunday morning the way
your eyes glint like the glass shards making
their way into your skin as you
use your hands to sweep up what could have been
last night's starlit, wine stained smiles
but it ended in silent screams and the
loud throw of your father's arm like it
always does
you do teeth gritted surgery in sutures and
sauvignon blanc but you can't put the bottle
back together or rewind time and force my
hand away from my crooked lips
you know how i am when i drink, love
why do you always make loving you a
broom sweep away

i hate chores but
i love the way things fall apart
you come undone in my satin sheets
you grip the bed like you dug your
nails into my back last night and steal
kisses from another
in your eyes i see mine and they are green
the forest green we saw in that wooden
cabin up north, it was cold and i realize my
stupid analogies just reflect how
things are
so far and your eyes are black ice blue
traces on your skin
you always said they changed with the weather
i throw kindling in the fire to make it
warm again

i hate chores but
i love the way you say you never loved me
your words fall out of your softly
parted lips, the sting they bear is
unbearable yet i smile
this is the most passionate i've seen you
since that drive we took to the sunlit
lake in new jersey
and i sigh in relief because the fire
illuminates your eyes
they are glass shard sparkling green