Unmask my mistakes. Highlight my losses. Focus on my faults. I don’t regret them. Glaze my flaws with yellow paint, decorate my surface with amber
You kneaded me, tried to shape me to your liking, extra-thin crust, light sauce, easy on the toppings, bland. Your well-intentioned hands smashed my skin,
Will this fog ever lift? I ask without expecting a direct answer. I check your pulse with two fingers to the ground, hoping for a
Photo: Le Croisic – Tempête by ThierryB. https://www.flickr.com/photos/46891291@N02/ Summer love does not wait for long-winded diatribes It does not fester and spring upon the fool
Incomplete works: I have them.
If you do, too, you’re not alone.