I’m Your Unwanted Pity Bite

I grieve his honey pot hands

Photo by Taras Chernus on Unsplash

I grieve his honey pot hands
how he held me like I was a universe
all chaos and calamity, and he didn’t care

that I was only worth what he valued me as
when the love leaves his hands
it’s a cold exit out of a warm summer door

lava stone shores ask to be licked
and you’ve forgotten I’m a sugar cone
too wet and cold to be worth

anything more than a pity bite.
I want to be remembered in your mouth
as where to stay rather than a destination

that I’m worth sliding under your tongue
like a pill meant to remove
the question of pain from your day

hold me longer than how you want to leave me
I grieve being a hotel to visit
but never home to stay.