life subdued; these days colors muted to

fit the shade. out of shape without you. limb

loosener, your effect debilitates.

autumn is our season    nirvana in bloom    that

is to say we blossom times six when rust sets in    our

bark too used to things falling      intimately familiar

with leaves leaving    gone with the rush of the

wind   too accustomed to the blues     to the sun hiding behind

hues   to the strain of seeing in the dark    we are but

hunks of wood    children of love going limb   leftover

smoke  wine colored roses   orange seeds for the birds

inside our chests    sweet song each new

year i’d wither in your smile   smiling from the inside out.

i miss curling up

sticky, snail-like

with you close

next to me, radiating heat

like a warm mug of tea

sweetened, as if soaked in honey.

sticky, snail like

i miss your kiss,

slowly sipping on you

with the disposition of a sloth.

I have let my nails grow some
they are well over the tips of my fingers,
i’d say considerably long.
noticeable is their length as i text smilies
type similes. sincerely, i am apologizing now
and well in advance for any future scratches,
scrapes, welts. any body mods. highly probable are scars to your skin too,
later revealing themselves, after a bath like a photograph
being developed. i dig deep in the heat of-brushing, my lips
will serve as nurse, medicinal in purpose.
so there is no need to worry.