ms. little freezing fingertips
your brain is bloody piss
your heart is crumbly cookies
and your blood is sour milk

our blood that ran together
now has coagulated in its place
it clottled and it plotted
til its viscosity was amuck

you aren’t just a shattered portrait
you’re a cubist silhouette
my face a twisted metaphor
for your fucking bitchy self

i cannot even rhyme for you
my words just will not work
my numbing tongue, you chewed it off
and covered it in bile