p.olyethylene.

a veil of toxins,
an obvious tryst,
hand on waist, lips on mouth,
like she’s never been kissed.

what we feel should not be tangible,
thick like your words,
they become her hope and espoir,
like nothing she’s ever heard.

so why does she hide her face in shame?
she feels so alone in this mess,
as we fall apart in each other’s arms,
in various states of undress.

the perfect form of a man,
even if you want to deny.
and her mouth is stretched open,
and her eyes pool up to cry.

so needy she feels,
like she needs you to breathe,
she forgets who she was and is,
and living becomes disbelief.

she is disconnected from all who feel,
mind shuts down and forgets the race,
she is in the supine position,
and feelings bubble from the hole in her face.

she needs life,
because without it she is lost.
close all the windows,
and hand her the knife.

it is pouring outside once again,
she lays in perfect content,
you don’t say a word,
and we lay together, our limbs tangled and bent.

a kiss like venom,
touch like corruption,
our feelings become polyethylene,
and our nights a reality disruption.