Stolen Negative

The shadows under my eyes grow claws,

the better to drag slowly down my chalkboard face.

The shriek is dog-whistle silent and self-wrought.

//

In the mirror, they move like smoke,

found in the stolen glances

of places I have already and not yet looked.

//

Gently purple, like your wine-stained kisses,

ashy blue, like dusk-borne rain clouds,

tissue paper thin and saltwater studded.

//

The shadows under my eyes deepen;

twilight into midnight, caked with dried flecks of grief,

moon-sent bruises; I’m kissed by passive violence.

//

The shadows under my eyes grow claws;

they caress my face, like you used to,

and now my eyes are bleeding.

///