I melt
candle wax on clavicle traversing collarbone hills of uncertainties
pluck the wick out myself and it hurts less and less each time
My dexterity is commendable extracting from what wants to stay but cannot
like follicles of hair around the nipple and lingering scents of lovers not meant to be
[2]I am not saying I want to fall in love
What I mean is the nights feel so grotesquely cold when the world is set to a righteous, violent blaze
And lackluster orgasms layered with lazy smiles lack warmth but I am fine, really
[3]One day I will love a revolutionary whose spirits have not yet been trampled by the ruling class
And my love and I will run across rice paddies of childhood
