For he who knew me

He lives inside a word that I

can’t accept. But it’s folded under the

hem of my dress, absorbed into

the threads of my slippery stockings.

Dazzling takes its forgotten breath

and exhales a letter, for me to run

in my nail crevice. His fingers feather

Her starbuck eyes fluttered when

you first kissed her, or forget?

the cinnamon envelope until my eyes

sweat. Cut little minx. I submit

and dedicate a drawer to his monarchy.

His frosted blood makes my earlobes

drip, each promise ever-growing.

The biggest are quickly beheaded. He stacks

All the cuddles are regretted in

her left breast pocket, are they?

the heads, braiding the hair together, and

makes a mountain for his abode. His hands

refuse to sleep in my drawer so I whisper

them to dreams. I don’t think I ever told him

how much I miss the rug burn on my elbows. Now

I’m tapping the jar that holds me, wondering

Did your fleurette leave any fingerprints?

if it will ring when it splinters on the

cherrywood. I don’t harbor his address

anymore, but he promises to give it to me soon.

Published by Alanna Backen

Hi, I’m Alanna Backen. Welcome to my writing pad. I'm an aspiring author hoping to change the world for the better, one word at a time. Let's make some good fruit!

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