Four painful poems about lo*ve

I

in the wild,
  forest—
    on the hunt.

 
we are—
  in the wild,
    forest,
      on the hunt.

 
spotted:
  you.
    when
we were
  in the wild,
    forest,
      on the hunt.

 
so did you—
  spotted me.
    when i
      spotted
        you.
    when we were
      in the wild,
        forest,
          on the hunt.

 
we—
  danced.
we—
  fought.
we—
  tried to have
    each other killed.

 
to take
  the prey
    with us.

so did you—
  spotted me.
    when i
      spotted
        you.
    when we were
      in the wild,
        forest,
          on the hunt.

 
you walked away
    full.

 
to the wild,
  forest—
    for the hunt.

II

sticky night of june
two in bed.
not the first,
first time.

this feeling
i have—
cannot
let it out.

silent,
    we are.
this feeling
is not.

nauseous.
thinking
thoughts
i won’t tell.

i turn
my head
to see
    your face.

your smile—
of knowing—
is
my realm
of quietude.

this feeling
i have—
i don’t have
to let it out.

sticky night of june.
two in bed.
not the first,
first time.

this feeling—
    we have?

III

road.
on the outskirts.
no one
remembers it.

 
road.
on the outskirts.
long forgotten.
still
it remains.
very old.

 
road.
on the outskirts.
long forgotten.
very old.
yet—
important.

 
why
do we know
it matters?

 
road.
on the outskirts.
long forgotten.
very old.
yet—
important.
and somehow—
everyone
knows
why.

 
but why?
how do they know
its worth
if it lies
so far away?

road.
on the outskirts.
long forgotten.
very old.
yet—
important.
everyone knows
why.

 
because
this is the road
everyone
quietly
takes.

 
why
this road?

 
road.
on the outskirts.
long forgotten.
very old.
yet—
important.

because
this is the road
they all take
to reach
the most
tender feeling
of all.

 
why
do they
take it?

road.
on the outskirts.
long forgotten.
very old.
yet—
important.

because
this is the road
we all take—
through the
hummocks,
the stumbling blocks,
the turning bends—

 
to arrive
at the most
tender feeling
of all.

IV

i am a lump in the throat.
unswallowed.
undissolved.

warm saliva slicks me.
i cling like paste.
i will not go down.

the thumb swipes past the wreckage.
screens glow clean.
i stay.
left over.
uncovered.
unfresh.

my skin feels unwashed under glass.
fingerprints bloom and smear.
a thin film of breath fogs, then clears.
i sour in that sealed light.

i am a product unsealed and turning.
i smell like milk gone wrong.
like coins in the mouth.
unsavory.
unsweet.

i am a kid
who scraped dirt
under the fingernails
and swallowed it.

i am meat left uncooked.
cold.
pale.
slick at the edges.
unappetizing.

the silence curdles.
it thickens.
it shines.
greasy.
unmoving.

like unwashed cum.
i dried out
in my own pubic hair.

i swallow and swallow.
nothing changes.
my throat works around me like a fist.

i wait to be scraped away.
not held.
not kept.
not wept.

simply matter.
unnecessary.