he plays my nerves
like piano
tense but pliantly
plucked because
his hands are a rhythm
of skin, warm and
tender and he
tells me me he loves
me with a mouth
like honey as
if he has never
swallowed a graveyard
as if his heart isn't
an empty chasm of
rot and cobweb.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
he plays my nerves
like piano
tense but pliantly
plucked because
his hands are a rhythm
of skin, warm and
tender and he
tells me me he loves
me with a mouth
like honey as
if he has never
swallowed a graveyard
as if his heart isn't
an empty chasm of
rot and cobweb.
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