His kisses taste like cigarettes
And when he's drunk
He'll call me his girl
And I'll smile into the phone
While he mumbles at me

He holds me by the waist
And I feel grounded but light
Like he tethers me
Without anchoring me
He doesn't know this

We sat in my kitchen
And drank tea and talked
It felt real in that moment
Like the future was now
And it was so tranquil

His kisses taste like cigarettes
And with every smile
And every time I see him
Staring at me with ocean eyes
I am understanding
His addiction.

“disrobed,
weeping from
the underbelly
of potentiality.

this art,
closer to the
ache of origin.”
|| shoo.shu ||