you have no idea? oh, really?
well why does your hair smell like that?
whose bobby pins are on your nightstand?
why don't you sleep on the wet spot?
staple your heart to mine,
cold fingers tracing outlines of veins.
a bag of batteries rustling in the hallway,
like so much change in my jacket pocket.
remember the night we had in july?
sapphire, lipstick and sweat.
there's no such thing as a muse, ok?
so don't say i'm yours just yet.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC
you have no idea? oh, really?
well why does your hair smell like that?
whose bobby pins are on your nightstand?
why don't you sleep on the wet spot?
staple your heart to mine,
cold fingers tracing outlines of veins.
a bag of batteries rustling in the hallway,
like so much change in my jacket pocket.
remember the night we had in july?
sapphire, lipstick and sweat.
there's no such thing as a muse, ok?
so don't say i'm yours just yet.
reworking of an early 2012 poem
