your hair smells like brimstone
in my memories that swirl under the pale streetlight
and in the reflective shards fogged over by our words
swollen overripe sicksweet mangoes
colors are more than the sway of hips
or a glint in the eyes laced with starbursts
and a face contains no infinites
i remember the smoky silence
drowned in fiction
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
your hair smells like brimstone
in my memories that swirl under the pale streetlight
and in the reflective shards fogged over by our words
swollen overripe sicksweet mangoes
colors are more than the sway of hips
or a glint in the eyes laced with starbursts
and a face contains no infinites
i remember the smoky silence
drowned in fiction