i can still smell your cologne
on my fingertips
from when i held onto your neck
and touched your face
i can't tell what color your eyes are
between the subtle green and grey
glistening like worms on a sidewalk
after a rainy day
your eyes are like the sidewalk
there are literally worms in your eyes
hanging out of the empty sockets
you do not have eyes
you are a zombie
your rotting flesh drips in my direction
sallow arms reach for mine
and i'm just aching to know
why zombies wear cologne
and why i can't write
a ******* poem about my feelings
without resorting to zombies
out of fear of expressing myself
because in real life your eyes are still green
and they are so beautiful