“Six” by Sage Lee

i was not a child
when you stripped me bare
pulled out an organ and
stuck it in your mouth

when you taunted me to
open, o p e n the window
before you climbed in and
i let you taste my eyelashes
was i a child then?

you made me hysterical once
fingers almost killing
thought as you sank teeth into
heart, maybe we should do
healthier things like love,
or make love

after you rolled over
said only needed somebody’s skeleton
i grabbed my skin and walked home

i left

the next morning
my heart came in a white box, wrapped
in the sheet we had dirtied
teeth marks etched into hide

i can’t (won’t)
abandon my childish gait
was i not your favourite

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Two Poems by Sage Lee

one night you will see

one night you will look at the pillow that
has the outlines of her face etched on it
and realise that the covers are
not keeping out the cold

you are going to stare at pixelated pictures
of goddesses with their hands on their roses
and maybe, just
maybe, that night you will pretend her lips are on your ear
breathing into your soul
(do you have a soul)

this night you don’t need a lamp or the streetlight
to see that it is heaven
and you don’t need to see
to remember how she took you to heaven

it is only hell in the day, when
there is no ‘her’ or ‘her’ or ‘her’
just ‘her’
the one that took you to heaven
but you only saw in hell

pleasure is pain and love

pain is my kind of
pleasure, you know
i love you like i
hate the dirt under my
like i
hate the salt water
on my pillowcase
like i
hate the straight lines
that set free my wine
like i
hate the cold windows
so dark i can’t
see the wind
love with the leaves

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