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To Amberlee Carter's previous piece

falling short

i remember now, how my dirty ideas stood on the threshold of your eyes and 
how you asked me to clean the words before you could let them inside.
so i did, i washed the sentences with my tongue, licking them off like a 
mother beast does her new-born beastly child.
my meanings, after all, belonged better out in the wild.

you rebuked them for their sour flavor, saying how unfit they were for you 
to devour.

never in my life had i regretted something so much, letting you come inside 
my mind to approve of the wall-paper.
it was always your voice that i longed to hear praising my insignificant 
labor, and i wonder now if you understand how it murder me to watch your 
eyes roll in disgust as you said: 'this is blasphemy!'
in reference to something i had titled 'love'