Wasps & Doves

Your laugh is there, but far

Frail and lovely like wax in a wine glass at the bar

Your wisps slither in the dark

They lift just like they tremble through and break apart

I don't want to be your saint

Change your colors to shade

Love in all its constructs

Love with all its wasps and doves

Fucked in all our fuck-ups

Fucking and failing and healing and cleaning up

As your eyes slowly adjust

Your languid camera waits and moves and flashing gold erupts

You feel the drug of my touch

And when you breathe it in the party is a warm warm blush

I don't want to be your saint

Change your puckers to straight

Love in all its constructs

Love with all its wasps and doves

Fucked in all our fuck-ups

Fucking and failing and healing and cleaning up