-colorless poppy-
(written before “-an idea, until she wasn’t-”)
*by someone chasing
a sublime dragon*
(frankie leone, just a man)
*she bleeds
droplets of opium
into my mind
tattooing my misted senses
with unique posture
framing liquid moments
vortexes with pupils
sucking in stares
and a voice
washing our city
in whiskey ease
then
per usual
reality sobers me
as i wonder what it’s like
to command others
into infernos of passion
across lukewarm bars
and tepid streets
effortlessly
i wonder what it’s like
to tie together
the strings of their emotions
and throw them
over electrical wires
unconsciously
i wonder what it’s like
to lace up someone
that makes more sense
not knowing
rain’s coming
walking out that door
wearing him
comfortably
and i wonder what it’s like
to be unaware i’ll hang
through the night ahead
after my memory of her
blots out the sun
appropriately.*
