i wrote those for him, but now these are all yours. being with him was like putting your shoes on the wrong feet; something minutely and indescribably wrong. i guess i've never properly thanked you for switching my left and right. time wasn't all he took, out for blood. he was handcuffs, skid marks on the highway; your mirror gets a tan from reflecting all that sunshine.
YOU ARE READING
ennui
Poetrywill i fork lightning? will i catch and sing the sun in flight? highest: #12 poetry
