scratches start shallow
I've never been much good at lying,
and I'm sorry
sometimes, I think it would be good if I was.
I'm just too wrapped in shades of yesterday
it's dad in me
gray through and through
and my lips laugh easily
and eyes bleed sorrow
and I'm sorry
to hurt you like this
as the cuts grow deep
like the aging rings of a tree
wrinkles gathered around sighs
I'm glad tears don't dye skin
because we both couldn't bear to look at the other's stained
cheeks, chins
but I wish kisses would leave seeds
our faces would burst with growth
green, ravishing, remembering the rosy days
green like your eyes, Rosie Grace
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