Narcotic Smile

It still scrapes my soul
when I think of you.
and I swear you
made me feel better
but never good.
Living with my addiction
to your narcotic smile
and amphetamine fingers,
waking wanting you,
knowing the want in me
made me want you more.
Could I love you so much
and you not love me.
Could I tie you to me
with ropes of ash,
crumbling under our touch,
feeling your warm face against
my chest become
a scratching bug in my left lung,
wishing I had walked so much sooner.
Some days the sun burns so hot
the smallest shade is welcome.
Red splattered lava
becomes the coldest rock.
All I can do is walk
to the end of Gatsby's pier,
fall to my knees and
scream your name
to the dark water,
and cough up that
poor piece of bruised soul
that keeps you alive in me.