Dried
On the surface of my tongue.
You once mentioned
The copper-flavored kisses
Bestowed,
Pale light.
Not blood or bile,
No,
It was these words
Dissolving, contorted
Revolving, distorted.
The lines of your face
Jaded.
Thoughts, Prose, Poetry. Skin, Sinew, Bone. Dust.
No comments:
Post a Comment