There is a cliche which says

There is a cliche which says
"I wear my heart on my sleeve,"
and every time I hear it,
I laugh.

What an appropriate aphorism,
although for the sake of
accuracy
I wear it under my sleeve:
directly on dermis,
self-tanned hide.

I could make a coat
from the leather mistakes
that I wear as shameful jewelry,
or badges on a boy scout's vest.
Signs of merit.
Validation of trials.

There is a silver devil on my shoulder
whipsering sweet nothings
into my ear.

He tells me all the beautiful things
that he could give me:
the rubies and merlot,
garnet chain bracelets
that no one else
is allowed to see.

He croons into my ear,
soft coaxing pounding on my offbeat eardrum:

"Please, baby."
"Don't you love me, baby?"
"Just a little, baby."
You'll love it, baby."

Him, fumbling at my mind
like a teenage rapist pulling down panties,
and me, love drunk on the promises--

I cave.
And a crescendo,
oh,
oh,
I'm
almost--
I'm--
there, lost
in the ecstasy of
bloody satisfaction.

Safe sex is bandages and tape.
I lay cradled in the arms of
home made opiate slumber
and I sleep in the wet spot,
with new jewelry to wear
when I wake up.