Talk to me
Conversations with contemplative pauses,
glittering crags of phrases littered with shards
of random swearing.
I’ll notice how your mouth moves
when you say things like, “impervious to pain”.
I’ll take a mental photo of your fingers raked
through your hair.
Tell me to stop smoking when I drink,
tell me to stop drinking while I pray,
show me how to forgive every once in a while.
I won’t mind being honest about what my nails
were digging into each night,
as long as you keep telling me stories only I’ll believe,
and I promise to keep drawing on the mirror with lipstick,
and finger writing my name down your spine.