Put the prenuptial in with the compost.
It will never grow. Instead,
Just like our love, it will decompose
with worms and beetles, bitter words,
small moss and fleas.
Leave this lie for
when I fly to the city
Recouperation is sullen.
I would prefer it if you were silent,
please.
Yet again, I beg for silence.
Forget me and I shall
never forget you,
yet why clutch at this artery for so long
when nothingness
is palpitating through.
I shall tether my veins
our connections too.
For I do not think it is wise
to be about you.
Leave me now, Gringos.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment