Yesterday she showed me her bruises,
pulled her sweater up underneath her breasts.
They were scattered 'cross her rib cage,
like a little patch of violet Rorschach tests.
She said,
Just 'cause I can't crawl inside you
that doesn't mean I'm not your parasite.
Just 'cause I can't crawl inside you
that doesn't mean I'm not your parasite.
She used to be so radiant,
so sexy when she laughed.
Now her eyes look like gravesites
as she speaks in epitaphs.