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Jun 2018
I gave her thornless roses,
thinking there is space still for something
between those ageless hands.

Very nice, sir.
Never dear, never darling, never preciousβ€”
Such old words, she says.
She means: like lungs and gasoline,
we just don’t need them anymore.

But I get my smile.
Always do.
Measured, weighed, tested, and yet:
Brief eclipse, splash of night.

The model was a fresh Rita Hayworth, 1939.

Yes, very nice. Only, tell me, sir…
Do you remember?
When the world was cruel?

Later, when there is time,
I swear to start again.
I have had dreams of honeyed girls
and an end to fearing silence.

What is it
that you want from me?

Oh,
wild things.
Written by
upcoming skeleton
  292
   Cam
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