gifts

I wear you on my wrist,

The stretched out elastic shells

as soothing as the gleaming silver.

On my ears, the crooked aquamarine a

Reminder I won’t straighten.

You nibble at my ears from miles away.

I wait for the bite, the bruise,

the lingering smell of you on me,

the scent of you and me.

Shrouded in intoxicating idealism,

A spiked environment of numbing hope.

 

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