When I was small my fingers were thin,
sharp like spider’s legs and just as clever,
and I would pick the lock on the candy cabinet
after bedtime and lay to waste my freshly toothbrushed teeth.
It’s how I think of us, mostly.
How I sneak into your darkened room and
lay to waste my freshly confessed soul with
your dark chocolate hair and toffee eyes
sweet cinnamon sugar hands and that jawbreaker mouth,
touched with licorice lips that beg me without sound.
We’ve all got a weakness.
No comments:
Post a Comment