narcissus, on kissing
i have learned to reject
every boy i’ve ever wanted
on the mouth. no- body is impossible
but mine is fucking close to fantastic. i imagine loving me
is being shackled in the cargo of a dreamboat.
beside you rages the quietest frictions.
every inch hurts, no, is heavy, no, this is not about kissing anymore,
sorry. i have learned to believe i kiss better in my head.
sorry my mouth used to not taste
so coffee-tar, stale-beer swallowing
tongue still licks like it should.
i want every-man’s collar stained with the gloss-
smack memory my lip-shape— a body, too.