Kiss with caution
she has a gun locked behind her lips
tongue on trigger
and she's never missed
soiled fingernails indicate
she has been buried alive in hurt
there is dirt in her lungs
so she doesn't waste her words on men
he goes to church every Sunday
but he is sin coated in cinnamon
roams like lightning
and carries red paint chips
in his pocket
they ended with others
a month ago
but when the sun follows its shadow home
breathing is the soundtrack
hers, his
track 6, the interlude.
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