Can I be your residue?

              Your coffee ring kisses,
              your sticky fingerprints,
              your velvet white cum stains,
              your lung shaped bruise?

I want to be your sweat.

I want to be your disease,
                   your haunting nicotine addiction,
                   your jagged surgery scar,
                   your car crash love life.

Can I reside beneath the refrigerator?
Fester inbetween your bookshelves?
Live within your pulse?

I want to be your first orgasm,
                   your last ribcage cough.

Can I be your fingernails?

Can I be your ugly,
              your loneliness,
              your broken glass
                                     your very last thought?

Can I be your residue?

(Perhaps, if I am your vile,
                          your ghastly,
                          your repulsive,
                          your quick draw suicide,
perhaps, you can finally be
that last breath of beautiful
you’ve always craved to devour.)