"soulmates"

humans don't even have souls

her red covered head fills with such
bullshit
tasteless orange skins
on the inside you're disappointed
you find it withered and dried.
pulp, just pulp.

his face is such:
broken cheek bones
the face of something dead
something on the brink of death
and yet she holds on, she holds on.

and you heat up
you steam
and you scream
like a teapot fit to burst
with boiling water that scalds tongues
and shuts people up.