Conviction

The air is lonely
like my bed of white.
Whisper lines trace that
decomposing shadow

the space once occupied
now uneasy.

Lying to yourself is not the same as
lying next to me.
Hands in pockets, knuckles clenched,
a vicious, empty silhouette.

Keeping the keepers,
the wild animals at bay
my flesh is attractive to them.

Raw gums, gangs exposed
circling crows, on tattered bones.
They wait for the fall
for teeth to pass through sinew.

Yet I wait and wait, anticipate
The consummation of a wedding night
between two bruised strangers.

We are burning
ourselves on molten embers
that we placed under
our fingernails.
Though I know you know,
we are nothing,
and it's beautiful

Tonight is as empty
as my head
as my heart
as my bed

Tighten the belt around my chest and
come back into the dirt where
you belong with me.
I have no conviction.