this kiss is crowdedby three mouths- yours, mine, and hersI am not welcome.
in the street’s middlebanged knees cradle gray gravelblood begins its pour
“coping is living”sings the bottle of whiskey“just let me hold you”
breath whispers of lifesun falls on the supine formstrength can be delayed
sometimes love whisperspeaceful after hard labor“I am what I need.”
the sun came too lateto save shriveling petalswe avert our eyes.