Friday, March 27, 2015

let me in

she questions your
sad poems, your dark
musings, the lightless
tunnel of your
words. another one,
she says, while peeling
an orange
at her kitchen
table in florida.
the sun rising just
over a bed of white
sand.
come here, and let me
soothe your dark soul.
your bruised heart.
let me rub oil
into your pale white
skin. let me understand
who you are. what's
wrong, what's right.
let me in.

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