You loved me once, and I remember the loving,
The smooth whiskey breaths on the backs of our hands.
You told me we were meant for things like
Picture frame guts and animal skins.
You told me in Georgia how you felt like an upside-down dragonfly.
I put my hand on a dirt covered,
Time soaked Bible or I believed I did,
Looked at the thickness of the pages and the
Chipping fake golden lining and believed,
Stared hard at the cracked leather exterior and couldn’t make out the words,
Not a glance at the amens crooning from the insides,
Swore my feelings down to the last inch of stone on the earth and
You told me you couldn’t believe in what was worth swearing,
And I let you.