bloody untitled

What is said creates what you are
in the elusive parts
of my most practiced rituals.
Exchanging promise for time
from machinations
to a cracking mouth.
The glow of a color I forget
in the rush of blood to my empty parts,
lost with every bite
but remember the center of that field
where we stood,
when I shuffled around [in / the] pieces;
chewing my lips until they flowed
so that I couldn’t lay them,
finally, on you.