the holes will never heal
and the swollen
will swallow their deep,
closed mouthed
breathes.
midnight openings
that peirce us will reunite
me, and i.
stapled with shining hurt,
because I am falling apart
and your arms are no longer
stoned enough.
i enjoyed our airbrushed
cyclical
submerging; it is over
now.
you're breath has wings...
i've never met that before.
thank you.
