Sunday, April 11

time and her

Desire, my dream child,
Crossing legs over another
You have forgotten.
Faces you have smeared on
Red lipstick and
Walled it off strains of memory.

Desire, you crazy bitch,
rubbing off lust,
in a casual wave of hair
and moving silent still
even when you are not here.

Desire, this magic box
Trapping and killing
like a pigeon in love,
till eyes see only you,
in every shade of air.

let me be there.