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Jun 2018
pink flowers blend with my toes, contrasting the
gray like my lungs and my ceilings and your breath
like black nail polish mangled in your wired beard
trying not to puncture the glass balloon you shoved me in

cracked lips you used to mend
never gently, but blissfully
lie open, yearning, screaming
my once yellow kisses burn blue with remembrance
I opened my eyes and you asked me to come to St. Louis and for a moment I thought this would work
Written by
mgnmrph  22/Madison, WI
(22/Madison, WI)   
171
   Isla
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