You make me feel sunburnt:
I redden at your gaze
your words make me sore
blistering at your touch.
But I always return;
the moth drawn to the light,
the festering cloud in July.
Perpetual sun spots
and dry lips,
a dizziness of the knees.
Now I know, why
they tell you to stay out of the sun.
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 4:18 PM UTC
You make me feel sunburnt:
I redden at your gaze
your words make me sore
blistering at your touch.
But I always return;
the moth drawn to the light,
the festering cloud in July.
Perpetual sun spots
and dry lips,
a dizziness of the knees.
Now I know, why
they tell you to stay out of the sun.