Loneliness, don’t fool me into caring

I have to remind myself that I don’t like you,
I just like how strongly
your lack of love for me
contrasts him. 

fragments

you told me once, while weaving your fingers
in and out of mine, laying on your stomach,
how in japan there is a practice of repairing
broken pottery with gold laquer to show that 
something is beautiful to have been broken

i woke up to gold lines around my bruises and
broken bones, circles lining my elbows and 
knees/following my bloodlines through and
through to my fingertips

and now there is frost in my hyaline cartilage
and under my skin and i find fragments of
gold under my nails from yours and

this morning i woke up painted in gold and
now i leave a trail of gold flecks on everything
i touch