Ruin me before time
has its ugly way now
it grows short and counted.
Between lines in my laugh
purity has weathered
cyclical storms. I would
have it wiped away
in a blast of bad judgement.
Stain me with peaches
sticky-fingered love smeared
at the corner of your mouth
kissed to bursting grimaces
in the chaos of ambiguous
silences. There is so long
to be still yet.
I will not keep track
of the fumbles, if you
promise to look past the light
on the cave wall and squint
against the sun of me.
…