Tuesday, February 10, 2015

like a chocolate bar or departing train door,
i crave you the hardest when directly
in front of me, a lapse in judgment, your lips taste of
sulfur, you co(u)me
presented as a present,
covered in bright paper and
sprinkled with grain sugar(which, presumably, i am to
lick off, if I've understood your explicit and
detailed instructions
via iMessage)

a shitty hand, a green blade of grass, a dog-eared page-
folding, folding, folding
holding the impression like a stress ball, digging
nails into my sides, digging
impulsive graves and did you know
when i was younger
i used my right hand to hold a fork and
my left to hold a shovel
now i use them interchangeably,
inside of you-

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