Blind Curtains Staring

The habit was easy to ignore. Couches in her thighs. Plump and soft. All my indents already embedded. The ripe of the heart. Like yellow dandelions into colorless wishes. At the mercy of our weakest exhale.

The giants with their baleful euphoria's. Stopwatches. Too certain. Of how long it would take. The hours on their hind legs. Begging for the chance. To chase that stick again.

Old men in their tight underwear. Oblivious to the comedy of their arrogance. Testing the meat. In drops of blood. The fire already willing to indulge the dead.

There's no delaying the epiphany. It comes hard and fast inside her hollows. She is whole for a moment. And then it's over.

Dirty linens collide withe empty skin. Discarded underwear draws its awkward sketches of what's left of happiness.