Diptera
Flies land on your food,
vomit, mush
up in their hands. You
do the same thing, only
backward & on me.
You keep vomit covered
hands in my back
pocket; warmth, only backward.
I swat the fly off.
You refuse to touch me after
You smoke, ash
falls in my coffee.
I don't grasp your neck
when our tongues crumble
into each other. Instead
I rub my hands together,
prepare for my meal.
Words
- Kyle Edward Harris
- "That's the price tag, no discounts, no bargains. Losing my first love was like living in a perfect house, with the perfect front porch and matching dormers where the key finally worked to let me in, until without enough warning, it caught fire and was gone, leaving a thin coat of ash that would gray my life for years, making me cry when I saw a perfect front porch or a light shining from an upstairs window."- The One & Only Aunt Nancy
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