there’s an apricot moon
draped in blue robes
suspended in a cloud filled sky.
i don’t want to smell like you,
and i didn’t want to let you touch me.
my impulsive child heart let you in,
and you haven’t found a proper lodging yet though i doubt you ever will.
can’t i scrub myself clean of your touch?
the eau du cologne clogs my pores,
the tree makes my eyes water,
the friction of bodies makes the fog wrap the windows,
the sweat pours down
and i’ve automatically put my arms around you.
as you enter i think about all the other med i’d prefer you to be.