Wednesday, 22 November 2023

by the time you see this

there will be nothing left of
my plural mess;
just the, broken. 

and as many punctuation 
identities made me,
purification was never
underlined or forgiven. 

underneath my skins we
were the most delicious.
over my folds we just crisped
off into melted dust;
i am no longer his mold.
i am yours.

invisible lined protection

after, life. there was a pause and we ended our grass-grown eyebrows and curled up against our dreaming eyes. this is where i leave you, and...