Eluding eyes
stammered speech
cluttered thoughts
wandering hands
stale notions
ineffective jokes:
they kind of
constitute my being
when you're around—
you draw out
all the pretentious
etiquette and revert
me to a version
of myself that I've
never seen
for so long
YOU ARE READING
Albeit flawed,
PoetryI was basking under the sun-the waves muffle the sound of my breathing; and I bury myself with cautionary confidence in the sand and with it the memory of your four faces. How can something lethal be life-restorative?
