Your Lady of Torn Ligaments


still your lover wears an eye-mask and earplugs to bed

though she'd give them up if only you'd ask

the streaks of blue dye running through her dark hair

your snores, the scrape of your whiskers,      the sight of you?


though she'd give them up if only you'd ask

you've taken to stealing the pain killers from her cabinet

your snores, the scrape of your whiskers,      the sight of you?

blackbirds swarm in the palm trees outside her window


you've taken to stealing the pain killers from her cabinet

more and more each morning

blackbirds swarm in the palm trees outside her window

swelling, like that knee that roots you both to her sleepless bed


more and more each morning

the streaks of blue dye running through her dark hair

fade to that color where darkness has been washed out with chemicals, and

still your lover wears an eye-mask and earplugs to bed

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