Lips kiss carefully
leaving me craving for
the carvings dug deep
within your undeveloped brain

I found carnations
pink as your Italian cheeks
left on my dusty dashboard
in the midst of summer
when I climbed back in heels over head
after the jeep flipped over

There they lay
limp and lonely
telling me stories stuck within their thin throats
and warning with their petals pointed towards the sun

but I’m bleeding nostalgically from my nose
licking the beet red bath from my upper lip
speaking with no teeth left
salty says my tongue but
I see bubbled blotches of someone
I used to call “baby”

Maybe I taste the bittersweet bouquet of
stale rain after all,
Maybe I can hear the clouds gaining weight
when I listen close