Roll me up
as a crisp packet
and dispose where no one will see.
Crush me
to ice on a snowy bank,
as soil on a no-dig bed.
Though
don’t make
eye contact for I
don’t have eyes that can stay,
they weren’t made for more
than casual harm, see –
pain hurts less than love,
your boot less than your lips.
No fingers through hair,
none laced between mine,
just
burn them, sear them,
throw knives upon them,
I can take that
but I don’t have the strength for your affection nor smile.
