I drink in moonlight
like the lemonade hours of sun
that leak in through
broken windowpanes
wasted hours
like honey droplets of time
sink in bones and tint them yellow.
Hands so big they could swallow me whole
wrap around my waist
and lick swollen elbows with fire.
Rotted fruit with
sickly sweet perfume
penetrate my
memories
and imaginary kisses.
I used to think I liked melodic voices
and soft leather jackets
winks like untruthful sweet medicine
melancholic lies and performances.
Conversations stretch like
curly cords of telephones
glowing screens wash rooms
with blue light
and sink in mattresses for future dreams
Jeans laced with smoke
and signals
questions and confusion
the sound of my heels on pavement
all little love songs
singing your name.