lipstickto draw digitson a starched handkerchief
as the years brought sagacity’s glintto my eyes, I thoughtlove would be a frivolous endeavorto be left…
wait for methere is an old sunI run from. clingy shadowsI must throw dirt on.
with our swollen eyeswe are four pistachiosunshelled, lost in the underbellyof a floral couch.
I like you with a twinkle in your eyesitting on the couch with your head cocked to the siderunning…
they werea startling pairyou and my old skin
if you continueto mask the painyou will remain unableto understand it.
your glassescarefully perchedon the nose we share
tell me your secretsthis mind is a worthy vasefor roses and thorns.
this trauma bondingdisguised itself skillfullyas a love story.
