Apr 2014
you, the one who is fluent in the language of my flesh, temples to neck, hips to heels
who cradles my name on your tongue like a peppermint, your chapped lips twisted into a grin
who carries ***** words around in a matchbox then dances dangerously around my body of fire
who, with plaid cotton patches of tan and rust, muffles my mouth and fills it with sweet ash and dust
will surely be the death of me
who cradles my name on your tongue like a peppermint, your chapped lips twisted into a grin
who carries ***** words around in a matchbox then dances dangerously around my body of fire
who, with plaid cotton patches of tan and rust, muffles my mouth and fills it with sweet ash and dust
will surely be the death of me
