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Showing results for tags 'does it go by sentences then?'.
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i open my red, red mouth & from it sprouts a garden of poppies and golden pears, a thing made to beg: stay, stay, stay. pull me safe through the winter, palms laid out across the fragile frostburned petals running tearlike into my eyes and sticking. my vocal cords thrum. & the winter persists, & you stay chilly, & once i wake up to you kissing me, careful as you pour poppyseeds into my voice box, pretending this opium won't flood my veins with sweet tar, pretending you never knew this need to be needed. i spit you out, & sugared pears follow. i vomit false summer, & winter ends. i dice you into soil & my garden flourishes. im wine-drunk & boundless, worshiping anything i can taste.