your fingers sweep saline dust
on my collarbones of dirt & dead hopes,
with figaments of knots, sordid closure.
ancient bells marking my face as salinity,
A staircase is kneaded inside my soft nerves,
my soft calves, my soft body..
the memory stinks & stuck
of you, of your black socks i slept in
your scent like vanilla sky,
enamored & ventilated, once
it’s a morbid tale of two now
Ships of lost city
with concrete desoltution
rubbing the corners of my thigh,
my plump breast, my void eyes.
it’s a tale people talk about now.
it’s a rotten sky now.
©MVS
