Friday, April 8, 2011

seared.

Some words stick
fly out of careless mouths
dripping with glue
to land sullenly
on sidewalks or stop signs
or selves
and stay stubbornly until
with sun and time they scar
pale and shining.

These are not freckles
They were my whole skin's tone
before you spoke.


1 comment:

irisirisiris said...

I really like this.