Making love with a lie

If my lips could move as fast as my mind
You would know I'm running out of words
To tell myself I might still believe you.
Oh, my spurious joy,
My beautiful enigma,
I don't think I'll stand to see you
For you are tethered
In places I could never go again.

Grasp

Multiples of my arm outstretched
Lain across hallways
Pressed against glass doors
Spilling over green fields
And lone roads alike

Their lips are pursed
Shoulders frighteningly still
Barely escape a breath
Lest I recognize the rhythms
Only your hollows make so well

3am

Her lipstick stains
All over my face
Spinning vision
Smoked up space
I closed my eyes
And thought to myself
"No more"
As the thought of you
Slid through me
Like another shot of rum.