the bottom of my tongue
tastes like your cold cucumber lips and
plum shell cheeks and
your pinstriped thighs linger
in the gaps of my fingerprints and
the sound of your lace colored flesh
covered in flesh colored lace
clogs my ear
drum.

each hair on my body
yearns to weave itself into yours and
each cell craves to inhale
your vanilla milkshake musk and
i searched every nook of the galaxy
and cranny of the cosmos for you
but you never
came.

so i just sat at a table
with glitter swimming in my soup and
snow smoldering in my pockets
tearing red velvet petals apart and
flicking bladed sequins
at nothing
because

i keep my screams in sippy cups and
glue pistachios to my thumbs but
after you waxed my cuticles with citrus
i couldn’t ignore the
cuts.