burn

You gave expensive presents
yet your presence is cheap,
leaves me feeling worthless.
I attempt to tempt love from your lips,
you return an empty kiss
squeamishly
as though i were a corpse.
Meeting your gaze feels shameful
like walking in on your parents fucking.
I even blush.
In the dark recesses of your eyes
flames of a crematorium blaze.
I’m not even dead.
But in this glance, I learn
that we are.

Even dead relationships have
at least one beating heart–
I can’t help but sweat
as my lips turn to ash,
as my love goes up in flames