Gentle Violence

Goodbye. Sparkling breasts. Fluid penis. Calm. The underwire reasoning. It wasn't there. During the darkness. That proved he possessed no glitter. The glue on her nipples. Not his.

Stuck enough. She assumed. Hard enough he insisted. The apple singing. A sad song. No one claiming it. No candles to find the stem. Nor glitter to swear for it. That it isn't just like us. Dark. And too close to nothing.

As pale as the hour is. Arithmetic not withstanding. Softer skins. The sidewalk snatches up the victim. The sewer waits for the villain.

The window narrows on who I can be. Just a ghost. Or the one who's haunted by it.

Another lie.

Or the reason it is.

Either way. I'm not the apple. Nor the orange. I'm not the fruit any man has tasted.

I'm alone and I don't care to remember their names. The actors were gentle. The rest of the cast were violent.

If I could tell them apart none of this would matter.