February 2, 2010
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you spread too thick against my hot and wanton back,
tattooed now- a stretch from what you once knew me as,
easily calmed with a light pat on the back on the hand or the pulsating wrist,
maybe against my flushed cheek, those boys in ripped pants and interesting playlists
knew how to rock my boat.

i've glued my cracked porcelain skin to create a patchworked temple
shakespearean wit, mild mannered yet of spicy tongue
open hands and bare footed to offer patchouli and harsh reality

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