untitled.

you were cold like a new menu.

you flowed over me like a stream of dead flowers or wine or a last drop of water from an almost empty cup.

you were the burning feeling. the fiery passion inside my hollow head.

the divinity of education. excitement. conversation happy as the third eye of infancy. laughs creepy as macbeth witches, tired as an old shoe's sole.

chunky thighs underneath the wounds i could fathom.

covered like a warm blanket of thunderstorm's comfort.

opening my doors like the invisibility of God.