we’re too different to be exclusive.
frostbite fingers over collarbones,
what a touch, what a fright,
you were right, you weren’t right.

time fades under trees of shade,
expectations are ninety percent fake.
got to loose this cup, in the heat of war,
slashing throats for violent slumbers.

i can’t sleep, we both can’t sleep,
just keep turning over, to keep the peace.
so the simplest of gifts are bitter shots
into the bloodstream, lost but hand-locked.

@4 months ago with 20 notes