#handrail
we find ourselves crumpled like paper
my nosebleed acts like glue
you smell and taste like pixie dust
my eyes roll around the room
ascending towards heaven
i grip your ribs like handrails
you stop me short -
'i'm going to...'
and like a napkin under the dinner table
i’m falling off your lap
you'll remember me when you need to clean up
when you need to wipe your hands
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC