Why are you the stone, bored
faces of my previous lovers?
You choose to move through
this life in a way that borders
sensual, yet you know deep
down you are quite innocent.
It's enough for me to be content
to not even bring you or this up
any further. I know how this starts,
and I know how this ends, and this
is not love, my dear. This is lust.
YOU ARE READING
THE ARSONIST
Poesía"You set my world on fire, but at what cost?" In THE ARSONIST, this prose-poetry chapbook explores third degree burns, stone faced lovers, and learning to love the blackened trees. New poems released every Thursday at 9PM MST/11PM EST.
