mornings fold origami style
into sap stained nights
and the incandescent cartilage
built up within my knuckle
mocks your memory.
huddled against the cold,
blue breath, blue fingers,
that vintage radio voice vibrates
against my car window. veins
stand vivid and the symphony
of soaring limbs comes to a
screeching halt. sin shudders.
lilac lips are rough and raw,
bleeding out sorry not sorries.
the irrelevant in-between
of conversation cuts like a dull
knife. I am the tortoise
you the hare. Criss cross crunch
frozen alcohol and numb fingers.
wobbly wounds, wobbly on our feet.
eat my heart like Snow White's.
