it's gross, sticky, like dried blood
as it cakes on the arms; almost sap,
that's it, just wipe it and watch it stain
smear it and see - it doesn't come off
trust me, I've tried
and you'll come to love it,
I promise, nothing
gets better than this
YOU ARE READING
poems vol. III
PoetryThe third in my series of poetry collections. Tumblr, @aslice-ofpoetry
