Part II: Russian Roulette

you have this habit
of kissing drunken mouths
and robbing with both fists
and I have a habit
of having empty pockets
and a weakness for brown eyes
yet another fatal flaw
so take it all
then take those dazzling fists
and break my barren body
please
crush my jaw
I want to taste my teeth with your fear
I want to taste your grief
as I turn the other cheek
now you can't sleep
argus-eyed and I'm your relief
where were you when I couldn't sleep?
visceral monsters marauding my subconscious
my penchant for imagining the dead
salted by the blood on our hands
doubled over seasick I wring mine
yours you just wipe on your knees with a shrug
"It was the right thing"
empty words drifting untethered in what's left of me
you walk away and I'm left
choking on a secret
nursing a toothache and yet another Darcy complex