the belt around her waist,
mimicked your pale hands
forming an "o,"
while your fingertips meet.
though I told myself
my curves are as gorgeous
though your fingers never graced
anything thinner than my wrists
or the neck of your guitar
i felt my cheeks drain of blush
and replace with the color
of the grass
i rather lay in
than jog through
because the only sweat
i'd like to break
tastes like yours
and mine
and ours in a kiss
while your fingertips meet
around each one
of my *******
and inside me

i was a spark.
you turned me into fire
but since you left me
i am ash.

every time I blew out the candles, I wished for you

We cover illness with flowers
and flowers die

The inside of my mouth tastes like it is decaying
I hope I lose all of my teeth first

Maybe its just the scotch and *****
But there is a burning in my throat

Maybe it is Satan just making his way out