Copper Flavour

Yeah, Phil and I are a thing.
So goddamn modern,
ditching getting hitched for shacking up.
Noncommital fidelity.

I like his tattoos, the Pixies poster in his ammonia scented bathroom.
Phil convinces almost everyone to dye their hair black,
like the cigarettes I smoke on the back porch
sitting up too late
waiting for Dawn to come
baby pink eyeshadow says the world is ending.
I ignore her,
Don’t Panic
Whisper half forgotten poems across the pillow
at that sweaty, sleeping city.

Phil would make an honest woman of me
if I weren’t such a liar.
I keep leaving him
on these blue black stiletto capped sticks
and coming back.
Let’s say I walk into doors,
crooked smile and bleeding gums
She’s so clumsy
Hospitals are for those with insurance
Not me
My parents worry
but they never liked any of my lovers.
And Phil loves me, really really loves me
When he’s not eating me alive.