hands / wrists / teeth

i. hands

faux bones, the simmering touch

glazed fingertips and how intimate

burying the memorabilia of your

lover is;

pale moonlight, pale breathless

words, pale serene gazes.

ii. wrists

rose oil and peppermint on the

sleek joint, rounded edges

the kind that breaks glass

ceilings, and houses ghostly

whispers of the old days,

day breaks, heartaches.

iii. teeth

crook of the mouth; leaden

tongue, would you presume

to cease the crass bullet words?

pearl sheen in opulent crevices

lips of a monarch. there nothing

more deserving than death

for those who stay s i l e n t

in times of moral

calamities.

#poetry #poem #poet #sadness #sorrow #madness #depression