Love in the 21st century

I want to paint your body
with expectations -
attempt to own what isn't mine,
plot your course and
man your rudder.

I want to sip jealousy from
an insecure cup
spit every word you say
later on
back into your face with prejudice.

I want to build a silent case against you
noting every slight while I smile and nod,
then,
when the house is burning,
throw the file,
and you,
on the fire.

How odd that we would deign to tell
another who is good and
who is off limits;
that we would sacrifice our entire lives for
salt and semen
and the insincere ghost of
fleeting
contentment.

As for you,
have your lies
your lie down
and lay about
under lemon scented linens on a Sunday morning,
swear oaths you'll never keep
and dream of futures
that will never
come.

I'll keep watch
and listen for your call:
hysterical, drunk, and broken,
saying its over
and this time
its for
good.