i am a black cat. i wish you were my ball of yarn

i lost the you in l u st
so now i'm lust in you
i will count your heartbeats
until i run out of numbers
i will invent a new number
& name it after your boyfriend, Satan
i could write 13-Devillion pretty poems
too ugly              —               for you
i could be your guardian angel,
sleeping on your right shoulder,
but you shrug me off
because i am Bad Luck

my eyes cough a saline waterfall,
NaCl cascades into my papercuts
i am worthless—
i am worth less than a grain of salt
tossed over your cold shoulder
to prevent Bad Luck

(it landed in my wounds)

smash my Glassheart, please—
step on its shardcracks & crack
my reflection in tainted mirrors
7-Devillion years of Bad Luck,
but you're not superstitious