has the glamour started to come loose?
through friction and exhalation
where gaseous exchange at the nose and lips
has started to poke holes in the ozone layer
i dressed you in, scented silken tapestry
drooped over your form, the very same
person i glided against was just me
making a tangled mess of sheets,
and your nostrils breathe hot, smelly air
through the threadbare gaps.
- your breath was my favourite flavour, but for the first time, last night, i caught a whiff of smoke instead
YOU ARE READING
i'll never be a poet
Poesiaand here's the pretentious proof an ongoing anthology of the poetry of nobodi.
