Bivalvia
Feb 25, 2017 · 1 min read
lips with strings attached
hang idly across your apocryphal mobile.
a jocose reflection,
gamboling about my anamnesis.
our peripheral ilk, askance,
brined in the mystique of ardent glut.
a mélange unmoored in
the boreal taste of clot and bleu.
inamorato, you charge,
a potrait of my culpability in the sand.
