I sometimes think of what could’ve been or what needs to be.
I fight with what battle scars and a chipped tooth,
Nose bleed and churned stomach.
I overthink the unthinkable thoughts that think they’re slick but thought wrong.
We sometimes ******* false words or ideas that never play through.
My porcelain fingertips bursts as I try to touch within you.
Cold as a throat,
Hot as my heart.
Annoyed with the constant bleeding and choking.
You give me hot buttered love,
Melting me like m&ms in a fat girl’s pocket.
My heart’s been played more than an Al Green record at a fish fry.