The pressure of your lips
The dirt on my tongue..
It all tasted the same.
I never knew what it would be like
To feel hollow
Until my knees crumbled
And the floor became my home.
The wind was never
A good friend of mine;
It only whispered under the sun
But whipped when I was bare.
And I'm starting to wonder
If that foreshadowed
The way our hearts
Are always in the wrong place
At the wrong time.