she smears her lips
with mama's red crayons.

(then
she swallows them whole)

lips like sour cherries,
puckered ,
                  swollen .

wiping her eyes on soft
tissue,
blood stains instead.

orange soda, fizzy tongue,
creamsicle smiles.
we lived in sync, there,
with an ocean breathing
between us.
i would have swallowed
the sun if it could have
helped cool you down
but i wanted to burn
god, how i wanted to burn.

it's that stupid small smile you give
when i am in pain
that makes me want to rip off your face

Been  away  for  7  weeks.
Glad  to  be  back.
I  am  so  touched people
have  missed  my  poetry.
hope  you  have  been  doing  well.
Many  thanks  again.
Take  care.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2017.