
I feel drops of acidic me falling on my forked tongue, warm, sweet
I’m immersed, but you seem to hesitate
You ask that I strip away pieces of me until nothing familiar is left
A model of your own creation, your unanswered desire
Yet no one can fit that mold, not even me
My pieces fall back to me
as drops of acid falling on my forked tongue
No comments:
Post a Comment