Materialism and You

My guts,
my blackest blues
whittled to the marrow
(what attracts all the dogs)
Frozen lakes
through forest fingers,
the absent space
between nightmare
and consciousness:

These are my gifts to you
No candy hearts or
billboards needed.
In this certainty
I show you my bones
so you see I have nothing
to hide.

Waking Up Alone

Coffee brewed black
cold now as your side of the bed;
kisses never leave such bitterness.
The teaspoons you've given me
aren't deep enough to carry
the sweetness of your words.
Your love crept into my cavities
rotting me from the inside,
stretching roots into my jaw so deep
I could only speak eight letters,
all for you.

Below Zero

Winter born of bone, flakes like krill
in gaping mouth. Champagne powder
settles on our heads, thick sheets of
worry packed in valleys of past
become white noise -
blizzard, brain, and nerve.
"A static mind leaves freezer burn,"
you say as I kiss your frost bite back,
sweat beading like hail, lipstick melting in fever;
"You'll never feel anything warmer than here."