What Are All These
what are all these pink things
they run around like little pests
hiding even if they’re always seen
look me in the eyes, don’t dare blink;
let me catch a bit of your smokes
as they succumb to their own element
of loss, love and a leech’s limerick,
I get high with your sweet denial
I was telephoned one time by control
ashamed were you to our crib
but you aren’t alone in this shedding,
you promised me several nights
even if I knew you already sold them
wrap yourself around me, you filth
I’m infinitely devoid of righteous roses
poem by Janine Alyssa Navarro
Added by Poetry Lover
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