whatever shall we call each other
when we are not even half-lovers?
just two naive suckers
riding on this ever-lasting summer,
living within warbled streaks of unseen colours
buried under the long bible's verses.
whatever shall we call each other
when we are not even half-lovers?
relationship defines by awkward suppers
filled with static, sewn and smothered.
electric charge so dense, you can capture
on grainy images or high-speed shutters.
whatever shall we call each other
when we are not even half-overs?
splaying wide open on cold bed sheet covers,
hovering between careful shudders
the moment we uncovered strangers' lipsticks
pressed on our collars.
whatever shall we call each other
when all we ever know is to be half-lovers.
⸻
prompt: grainy image
YOU ARE READING
Death of a Nihilist [poetry]
Poetryyou should be scared of life as much as you're scared of death. // A Modern Tragedy, Volume IV | UPDATING DAILY FOR APRIL //
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