Sometimes I think I found the end of the world with you But I didn’t I found the edge of something against which the searching arm the searching stump had foundered against many times this edge which had bruised this needy self and left an imprint in the exact shape of a thumb as if loss had been made manifest in the startling stabbing motion drawn at the end of the universe. Where I found you I found madness I became much used like a sponge. And as I spoke the word the same word you spoke I branded it across my forehead. Perhaps you counted it as just one more mark against your damaged self. I hope not because a person should never think that way about themselves. But I was new not brand new shiny white sneaker new baby bottom soft perfect peanut butter top new car new but new enough even if I didn’t know enough enough to run and it made a mark etched a memory into my vain vanity into my vein and ran like visions in my blood and I can’t let go because you were the first to draw on me so and no matter how I try how I leak and bleed and blunder I can’t bleed you out read you out, write you out can’t find goodbye and push it shut with my blue-black hands.