Dirt keeps jamming
under our fingernails.
We've spent hours
digging through each other.
Were looking for a lover or a friend;
an ancestor and a relative.
We tried to sink our teeth
into each other
but all we found
was chipped porcelin.
One day I'll learn
how to hold nothing
and love the way it tastes.
One day ill leave the place
where lovers say,
If for no other reason,
*My pants are already
grass stained.*