NaPoWriMo - 16

There's only room for one of us on the moon I planted my flag here, cutting through the air The pictures don’t capture how you bled It happened all at once, my underwear stained with blood, teeth in your kisses, snakes in your foyer. You were not Hamlet. I was not Gertrude or Ophelia. I carry my memories like a butterknife Stopwheeled and lockjawed like a bonfire at sea. I stood still as stairs, you fell down me to the sound of wet carpets. Slip like a loose-heeled banana. You yelled at me to remember you when you were gone. I can't stop. I can't go back again. I want to dismember.