The very marrow has been ripped from my bones
The nerves in my head have been shot
Can’t you see I’m in need of your attention
You’ve never seen eyes so pathetic from behind the glass of the classics
An agent sent down by god to keep your crosshairs on me
To nail my feet to the brickwork for a second time
You’d forgive me for believing in divine apparitions
When you give me that look from behind the beacon of your phone
You’ve seen me as a soulless wreck
You’ve seen me as a vengeful soldier
You’ve seen me as a heartless monster
And yet you still stick around
Oh darling you won’t hear me complaining at all
Especially when you shake the scrabble board
By brushing on my shoulder like that
I know this time round we’ll be playing the robbers, but I don’t mind
It’s like you said ‘What’s the need for sonnets
When you have an incendiary grenade?’
I hope you’ll forgive me for this one my dear
But it’s getting hard to hide my grin
The last time you took my visage, you embraced it and ran
But for the sequel I hope you’ll be wearing it the next morning
Domestic Poetry 