there are nights we cannot touch again; held sacred by the innocence that once surrounded them. a naivety that we've since broken - in violent and gentle ways. adam and eve traded paradise for a taste of fruit, so we traded trust with the knowledge of what a grown heart looks like when it's wrung dry. we traded wonder with books on the human condition. and I traded you for a sense of freedom and a list of things I never even wanted to do.
[you traded me before I had a chance to change my mind]. so here's to us, and to everything we lost when all the deals went through. S.
lips red as sin, and the smell of something deep and lustful dabbed to the wrists, the neck, the small of the back.
the room is full of people or it is empty, [i don't know the difference]. it seems we are all here for one hundred years just trying to memorize dates, and times, and schedules, and the recipe to a good chicken casserole. trying to memorize how our bodies work before they change again. and you are sitting across from me in a room that's full or empty [me, lips red as murder you, a dirt smudged tan].
i've memorized the shades of brown and green and grey that make up your iris, and i could recite your name in my sleep like a song [i do]. but sitting here, my red sea lips refuse to part the way i want them to. S.
