whiskey-tinted breath
in a soft navy sweater.
head's a crowed crop circle,
and skin's a corn field.

an acoustic room
haunts in a burgundy voice.
west virgina is vacant
but home is warmer.

the henna's fading
with the dusk now arriving.
there's a hollow in my bed
that you'd never fill.

i speak butterfly
while you're still six feet under.
I left your seat empty too,
i knew you'd be glad.

still waiting for a
call from you three, telling me
it was easier to wait.
or "i love you too".

i wanted to touch
you one more time but i shook.
its not like my kiss can save
relationships or lives