forehead to forehead
the white sun goes down outside your window
there's no one peeking through the blind, baby
you're blind.
i missed that holy face, your nose for a crucifix and your hair for ribbons
your beard, reduced to stubble
it has been so long since i was touched so simply
awfully intimate
primally so
and for a second i believe i will be the end of you
i'd sear thee upon a searing cast iron skillet,
season you with garlic, the vampires kryptonite.
but then you'd die
and i can't stomach anyone else leaving me
YOU ARE READING
An Enigma Is Too Much For A Cat To Eat
Poetrypoetry from the raw heart of a teenage girl. I wrote this poetry collection throughout my junior year of high school, when so much change was underneath the sun's aura. In and out of depression, in and out of the psych ward, I survived the first ha...
