cgcpoems: 29/30, by Caitlin Conlon sometimes i feel like a paper cut that never stops bleeding,a...

cgcpoems:

29/30, by Caitlin Conlon

sometimes i feel like a paper cut that never stops bleeding,
a rifle discharging into a thicket named after your brother.

in my head we have more than a bedroom to our legacy,
more than crumbling dictionaries or pressed leaves.
i suppose everyone’s getting pretty tired of hearing about my head, though.
she twists the faintest of memories so seamlessly into floss.
where’s the fun in lying about intimacy?

the reality is that i still think of you as bandaid and ointment
when you’re closer to emaciated animal, or beaten path to elsewhere.

this was never supposed to be a metaphor for anything.
i just wanted to love you. i just wanted to love you.