We are a chaste kiss waiting to happen By a table, with a lady frustrated by the lateness Of her boyfriend, pizza cooling A soft Viennese kiss brings it all back
Think I might be lonely, or hungry, not sure. I pace once to the mirror and then to the door. There is an ailment in the way that I move My mother might see it in my cheek hollows and grooves
I was gathering up all the dew, Night oxygen through my nostrils Leaving my father's that night. And I remembered just that one day and us sitting on the wall
There's a party... after the party? A pointless embellishment upon another Invite Screams Nonsense After... party? What an odd phrase I hear myself say, deep in the confines of