all heart shaped things all color
sit stagnant in the skull that doubles
as a bowl of porridge now a black olive secured 'tween my thumb and index or maybe it's a black widows abdomen i can never tell and it doesn't matter
i had a dream about your tits
and they were a nice pair of tits the light tan of your areola that i have never seen the color of your freckles your cheeks riddled with sex as unfamiliar as your new name
i could stare at the monitor the cursor blinking in morse code saying awful truths about me i'm sure but i would never find you today not one measly picture it is shiny steel coffin knobs in my thoughts twisted tightly to the right turned until they can go no more
it is dead things in boxes like time capsules to be exhumed one day how dead things do not stay dead how things do resurface and if the day should come i will forget every gorgeous curve of you every beautiful smile that came with a set of dolly green eyes every subtle movement as we lay asleep together as you'd drool a little on my chest every anything anywhere anyway
or at least
i suppose i would try.
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