bad poetry
love has been
over-written
there is not much left
for me.
even so, as I fall
asleep
I write a romance
on your back, in
circles.
my feet between your
sleeping legs,
I keep quiet to keep
you near.
I want to super glue
your lips to mine,
to be held until we
are faultless,
seamless, tucked in
each another's skin,
like the chinese
dumplings we botched
together.
I am happy to love
vulgarly:
More, Most, Insatiable,
common notions in my
head.
I am happy with the
bad poetry
that is loving you.
