you’ve tired of her.

her proletarianism without true
protest,
her feigned laughter, her shallow interests,
her encroaching hum that spins into
white noise in the background while
you begin to obsess over another actress.

she can taste your indifference
with every liquored kiss.

you’ve been watching tigers move.
you’ve been memorizing motion.
you’ve been stating needs and retreating
and she’s been coming closer.
where’s the knife inside you?

I’ve been eavesdropping.
I’ve been spinning webs.
you’ve been seeking the blood in cats
and I’ve been catching mice
as traps
to rip it from your
nervous breath.

 

4.

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