You always come to mind at dark.
Your flesh dissolves
through my open hands--
your scent becomes fleet
and pale.
Sometimes I'll inhale
a warm clove of you
but more often
I inhale you through.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
You always come to mind at dark.
Your flesh dissolves
through my open hands--
your scent becomes fleet
and pale.
Sometimes I'll inhale
a warm clove of you
but more often
I inhale you through.
Unfinished.
