give me your cure
and the top shelf blue velvet
its mine
and I'm not well
I know the feel
of bikes
balance ; focus
I notice I ride
in circles
I hide in sweet sonnets
a toothache for charm
a rush behind my eyes
raw sugar
penpal promises
sealed late in the night
I told God He could have me
if He paid for the stamps
hands crossed my eyes
in a desperate attempt
to keep me away
from the truth
I never peaked
not to stare not to know
I'd rather walk the line
blind