Trumpet section

So I took the E-string, the sixth and not the first-
And I tied it around my forearm nine times
And tucked it under itself
And let it cut through the circulation.
rumbling red ripping through compressed veins
sitting soaked and undeniably attentive.

On november nights
dark as frost
dessicated last leaves flapping steadfastly on the edges of barren branches
whipping frozen stars
I can still feel the bleacher slats
meat table cold
through the scratch
of the polyester hitched band uniform.
your cheek pressed against mine
cold flash
bloodhot below
And me turning my lips to kiss edge of your lips while you brushed me away.
Lush breath saturating
The quick divide.

Cutting me out in honduras

when I lost the space between us
by telling you that i couldn't be with you in the way that you wanted
you stopped and began to tear
softly coagulating beneath your wide tender cheeks
that were scented like cherry honey
but I felt nothing
as much as I wanted
and only a week later was I gutted when I knew that I lost you
I wasn't ready yet to lose you
not ready for us to cut sharp divisions between sleet and overcast
but I couldn't stop you
and I couldn't pull you back beyond me