No, or perhaps…

October 24, 2008
flesh of cracked lips
swollen with sweetness; makes me
wince. a thin layer of blood
seeps through

of your pink tongue

and I wish to kiss you
so you may clear the way
to illusions that only you can
create when everybody
smiles with yellow teeth

but my bones are cold, or rather
you are much too real
diseased dream. at last
obliviation concealed
to be revealed in
a warm sigh

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