We kissed so hard it beat your morning erection.
When your mother invited me over to dinner I drank
all the wine; it didn’t matter since I was already drunk on you.
I tried to pull the plug on our relationship three months ago,
but I got such a shock that I had to insert the cord
back into the wall socket.
Making out with you felt like falling off a very tall building
without a safety net; when you got braces it felt
like falling off a very tall building into a patch of thistles.
Condoms were the only constant thing in our relationship.
You started taking sleeping pills
so we wouldn’t have to have unwanted sex.
We went to see penguins at the zoo on our first date
but ended up feeling just as caged as they were.
Loving you hurt so much I’m surprised the pain scale
at the doctor’s office doesn’t include
being your girlfriend as an option.
I got I love you tattooed on my palm so I could
hold my hand up instead of saying it out loud.
Adam and Eve would be jealous of how many apples
we fed one another in bed
just to find out one of us was allergic to them.
The only scars we gave each other
were ones worth keeping.
I stole your cat once to get revenge
but it turned out that you didn’t like her anyway.
When we broke up the second time, our hearts
were so heavy we had to go to the emergency room
with complaints of chest pain.
Staying with you for even two weeks straight was a war
I couldn’t defend myself in anymore.
I hated your blue moods because I’d never seen
a shade like that before: something halfway between
the ocean and the veins of someone
who’s had their circulation cut off.
We loved each other so much we had to
set up a calendar schedule to take days off
from one another.
Your mouth made me forget I had my own
since I was glued to yours so often.
Our relationship was like a time bomb:
always ticking, ready to explode
at any moment.