Tapping,


I cannot quiet the ghost on the couch, she does not see me, I think,


Tapping,


Each opiate kiss I cherished more than the ocean


I take from her what I can,

all loveless things,


The salt from my mother's eyes, I'd have hoped they sobered up, I thought my lips were dry enough,


By now, at least,


Are you tired from the melt?


By now, at least,









© cankered cupid