I ended up having to cover your face with a sheet,
and, of course, it's all your fault-
I still won't budge an inch.
I remember seeing you,
blue lips like the tongue of a lizard, mouth
opening outwards like the petals of an orchid;
tongue lolling down like its heart
cored and on view;
cavities like fists knuckling into your skull.
But I'm sick of writing about decay,
I can see myself exactly like it.
and I'm terrified of leaving myself exposed.
(yes. I genuinely know how bad this is. intoxication doesn't always help with these things)
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