silver

jetting over the dryness we cough and cringe
intimate as our new dogs are we, so similar
lofty ideals we determine by disruption
letting yourself off the hook with an excuse
dirty hands, happy yellow faded walls, pieces of me
am I that bad yet sympathetic wallpaper you loved
money-filled tribes war in this wet-kiss, blue-lipped land
now I must observe the filtered-in hugs and rings
sentimental value, a sunset, both undervalued today
isn’t that my heart, that stuffed pepper, that was misplaced
living it up was the purple days of lazy, drinking stares
votes mean nothing to the hopeless, lost, and found in
every spectrum of blatant emotion, doubtless
rolling my palms across your back, I wonder about all this

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About jaybeasley2

a writer, a painter, a poet, a wordsmith
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