All that is me and
you and I,
and us,
is semblance to
an amarena sky,
dripping dusk
sticking sickly syntax
'I' stuck
wryly wires
shy
around
pink hairs of little girls
that I chomp on slowly
with peony lips,
as the
frills of your fingers feather my
'heart'
thud
tantalising tufts fall from
my mouth
thud
thrice
'you' pick prickling petals
out of my eyes
and smile knowingly,
knowing.