Your clothes can’t cover my memory
doe eyed girl full of intrigue
despite her,
she became a woman
breast that lay with you
such a fluid form
for a body so firm
like god couldn’t decide with you
I however have made up my mind
I am not your creator
but I can destroy you
even the wrecking ball eventually erects new structures
The French call it “Little Death”
I’ve named it after a pair of monuments to a moment,
glimpsed through thighs up to you
hungry
tongue lashing out
words cropped from two bodies
in solidarity