She read my coffee grounds,
“Your life is sludge.”
I was suddenly overcome
With the need to let the cold
Lap against my bottom teeth.
This movement was not advisable,
“My limbs grow barbed wire.”
She took my suddenness
With a gently wrapped gaze
Upon the open map of my palms,
A pattern of swirling ruinations.
“You are a lightning strike.”
Her fingers run me ragged,
I’ve lost track of all the lips,
My kiss withstands commodification.
“I traded my heart for this,
It’s never gone as planned.”
