regardless.
thanks for reading
If my blue-colored girlfriend told me today
that you had died,
I would paint my nails red for your funeral.
Red.
Red like my cherry-flavored lips
that turned the color of bloodlessness
in the cold of your bedroom.
You were a man.
You ate your meat rare.
You fought with fiery tools of war.
If you died, your men would not grieve.
For they, too, are men.
my woman
was born with blue hands
blue
like the wide-open sea
like the warmer flame who coaxed the blood
back into my frozen lips
a woman who ebbs
and flows
and melts
and freezes again
You consumed.
You will consume yourself.
Like a point-blank shootout.
When you ran your fingers down my back, I bled.
when she runs her fingers down my back, i shiver
