Blood Sucker

two sets of limbs hanging low 

too drained to stand 

torsos slouched, resting against cold granite 

fingers running through the dirt 

reaching to where life is no longer 

wondering if life ever was 

dying to preserve a parasitic bond, 

ignoring its ability to eat me alive– 

hungry, hollow, unseen,  

leaching into every corner of my mind 

as I hold on for dear life, grasping  

the edge of a hole dug five feet deep

rumination like a dusty red worm mocking me

as it coils through dark, damp soil– 

dirt caught like lice in a fine-toothed comb, 

each grain combing through every wringlet 

of the worm’s wrinkled body 

smirking a slithering smile 

while it digs beneath the ground I walk on–

the ground I fooled myself into thinking 

would one day unfreeze 

but when the sun still set past 8 pm 

a mosquito must have beat me to you

because there never was enough blood 

to rush through our veins, 

to raise our arms, 

to entangle them around each other

to flood even an ounce of 

color into our cheeks–

we were just two pale faces 

who met under an open sky

tricked into thinking

we could tie our strings together.

We were from the start 

two lifeless bodies

like two red balloons drifting apart 

beneath a muted, cloudy sky 

full people, filled with

essentially nothing.