On the back of a country road I imagine how your skin would feel
rough as the underside of a rock warm in my hands
begging for freedom to be back with the earth it belongs to.
I know somebody hurt you and i’m sorry, I read it on your skin
the way you grip the steering wheel without meaning to.
The hair traveling down your neck begs me to kiss it
instead i think of unsexy things like omlettes and the way your mother
pronounces the word caramel.
Every time you get of the car it’s like you’re begging for a miracle
I want to take whoever damaged you and shake them by the shoulders,
say look at all the beautiful poetry you have made with your lips sewn shut.
You wont talk about them but i feel it in your eyes
the way you stand in the river, kneel infront of the sink
as if salvation was kissing your feet.
Tomorrow is Monday and we have lives to go back to
on the drive home i am silent, bruises swelling on knees
I look out the window and think of wolves,
try not to think about kissing you
I know somebody hurt you and I am sorry
it’s hard to say I am not one of the same.


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