Teeth
I grit

My mouth
I close

Lids
Lower
Drop
and
Roll

Crushed
By
Your
Hard
Core
Mortar
Churning
Soul

Spooned
Into a
Bag

With the
Slightest
Amount
Of
Pressure

You seal
You close

Piping
Iced
Tears

Onto
A piece
Of
Kitchen
Roll