This Poem is a Cliché

I washed my hands for ten minutes today to watch them turn red like lobster’s claws. The change over time isn’t even noticeable. Time, it’s just sand in the wind. Don’t let them tell you life is short. It took forever to turn my fucking hands red under a faucet of scalding hot water, and I’ve had one hell of a ride so far. I think I’ve lived twice as much life as you and you’re the one saying it’s short. You still have that pretty girlfriend right? The one you’d rather fuck than me. The one you can’t leave because she’ll have a nervous breakdown, an emotional meltdown, and while we’re both down, in the dumps that is, hows about we talk about this. No, I want to talk about it I don’t see anyfuckingreason not to. Let’s bake this Clam, and blow this Popsicle stand, and while we’re at it ‘Ahoy, there’s land.’ Let’s get out for a walk. I’ve always liked sunset walks on the beach. That’ll be my personal ad in the paper ‘loves sunset walks on the beach with you.’ I don’t believe you when you say you love me. Beauty can be measured by looks, that’s what beauty is, skin deep, and we both know I’m no brown eyed girl, no buxom beauty, no dream girl. I bet if you’d let me though, I’d make your toes curl. But love is the most beautiful flower of all, even more than the red red rose. When I want something to grow, I put shit on it. Real shit’s the best. So let’s shit on our love and watch it grow, baby. If I live twice the life, I wonder if that means that I only have to do it for half as long? Seventy is the average life expectancy; I’m shooting for thirty-five. Fuck it, thirty. Who wants to live forever? I’d use the sorcerer’s stone to throw through your window to see you look out at me. They thought Florida held the fountain of youth. Tell that to the retirement communities down there. Doesn’t seem to do them any good. You think this is how I feel, and you think I hate your smile and smell, dear. But that’s what I am, and I’m really just caught in your headlights. The cornered animal fights the wildest, and like a caged beast I’m fighting against you, so hard you can see my fingernails scraped off on the side of your cage. There isn’t a key, because I gave it to you, and it was lost before it was gone, and my heart is gone, too, but what? Is it just my fingertips or is it all of the parts you’ve touched? Your hands are an acid to my skin that burns forever after it’s gone. My hands are white now, the water dry, and you don’t even know how much I’ve hated you in your absence. You don’t know how much I’d love to smell your skin, and I am just a walking cliché when it comes to you. A comet may only come once in a lifetime, but I don’t know of any lifetime that has what we had. Just throwing caution to the wind, don’t give away any part of yourself that you need to survive. A pound of flesh, but what part to give, I like my ears, my eyes. I need my hands, my feet, so I gave you the thing that makes us bleed. And you still have me hypnotized. Your bones and flesh my home. I’ve given my heart with both hands.