you have
your nicotine fingers
running through my hair
and i have
frequencies reaching
ten thousand times my limit
because your eyes
are moons
and my mouth
is lavender
the flowers you picked me
are in a whiskey bottle
on my front porch
they haven't died yet
and neither have i
for i have been standing
somewhere between
salvation and corruption
and i don't know where to step

*(a.m.c.)