sharp objects.
we explore each others bodies north and south.
scars from a fathers hand and mothers mouth.
had the words sunk in ,
had the nights washed over
i could have never reached her
where i swam out
a little rusty
a little worn
a distance
north and south
broken compass
torn map
here is the knowing part
ends with gray skies
a scene in the rain
we can't hear
the words
ends with
summer
promises
sharp objects
