patchwork

When I woke up, the lush face of Morning revolved around existing

or falling back asleep.

I decided not to participate in the world-

to lay here and leak passion into spaces it won’t be used.

 

I thought to never write another poem-

to choose insensitivity,

(the most convincing dead end),

to trade my patchwork coat for a uniform.

 

I think you were ripped from some

lacklove Renaissance painting

that wanted you to hold still,

to get your form just right.

 

Let’s talk about LOVE

Can we talk about LOVE

I’ve been dying to talk about LOVE