It hides in the spaces between
every adjective I spit out
like milk that’s gone bad,
patiently waiting
to lace its fingers around
the back of my neck
and pull me closer with
its newest allure
cigarette breath,
kiss me to death.
Nestled as a punchline,
after every minor inconvenience
like accidentally running out of gas
or driving past my old place
and knowing
someone else
lives there now.
Showing up
when least expected;
I find leftover bits of it,
stuck to me indefinitely,
like forgotten electrodes
glued to my body
I peel them off
one by one
but somehow
there’s always more.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:35 PM UTC
It hides in the spaces between
every adjective I spit out
like milk that’s gone bad,
patiently waiting
to lace its fingers around
the back of my neck
and pull me closer with
its newest allure
cigarette breath,
kiss me to death.
Nestled as a punchline,
after every minor inconvenience
like accidentally running out of gas
or driving past my old place
and knowing
someone else
lives there now.
Showing up
when least expected;
I find leftover bits of it,
stuck to me indefinitely,
like forgotten electrodes
glued to my body
I peel them off
one by one
but somehow
there’s always more.
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