| Oh, you’ve a pretty mouth,
|
| Leave your lips to linger on my skin and
|
| Kiss me one last time
|
| I will roll off your tongue like a whisper in the winter
|
| Sleeping in the sutures of the city’s skin
|
| Make yourself remember me in cold and concrete.
|
| When will you realize this city/your demons make (s) you real
|
| Oh, you’ve a pretty mouth,
|
| Leave your lips to linger on my skin and
|
| Kiss me one last time
|
| I will roll off your tongue like a whisper in the winter
|
| Sleeping in the sutures of the city’s skin
|
| Make yourself remember me in cold and concrete.
|
| It’s the way my hands felt lying still beneath your dress
|
| (I am transparent,
|
| I am a greenhouse filled with ghosts.)
|
| Oh god, oh dear god
|
| Whisper secrets, speak in a hushed voice
|
| The first thing that you learn is that you never let them hear you
|
| In a soundproof room, in a windowless world
|
| Keep your voice down or dull your words.
|
| Then,
|
| Put on your bedroom face for him,
|
| All pursed lips and half-closed eyes with pink-stained skin
|
| Screaming for sleeping hands on downed dresses,
|
| Screaming
|
| For dead legs come alive, for dead legs come alive.
|
| Oh dear god, there is no excuse for me |