sweet-n-low

skin and lips
fingertips
hard pressed
lines in groove
life prints
mark a move
 a fold faces  …
he traces my curves
and fingers the shot straight to my nerves
gun-shy children
in my eyes
lost, broken
blood stained face
three more shots struck down
around skies panic
whispers fade nine lives 
the clumsy and stupid
people’s souls
, brain dead
reboot again
leaving notes for who knows who
childhood memories
i want to hold you
but what we seek
has been erased
Packets of sugar
Dust motes of vanishing hope
Pocket filled lint of Fate

 


 

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