...................................................................................................

romance



tiny and flat
(deliriously lessly)
the taste of coffee

here, mister: this sore is over
and i mean left - like the bed
like the emerald, love

recollect the nectar?
the need to manipulate
thick things?

my shy face in the shower
your swampy whisper
(you wearing muscles
i bruises)

it was a funny wake
it sure was





Archive

Followers