I kissed you under the light of a tv screen.
Your lips were stale.
You told me to wait, said
ripening takes time, dear.
I waited.
and now
that my blood walks like a wooden ghost
through the cobwebs of these dusty veins
now
that my bed is tired of listening
to the blank stares of my bones
now
that time's body is decaying
so slowly beneath my eyes
now
I think
I don't want to kiss you
anymore.