Tonight I am writing random lines in my head that don't seem to be formulating themselves into poems. Probably because my head is just foggy today. To many jello shots last night, I think. So I figured I'd better at least get some of them down, in the hopes that they might become poems later.
Can you not pluck an orange
blossom from the tree
branch and turn it
into nectar?
the brush
of lavender against warm
skin
the cool slip
of a newborn
kitten’s tongue
grapefruit juice on an open wound
Will you forget the breeze,
sulfur and pine across skin
Do you not realize that your kiss
gentle,
moist,
on my hipbone
makes me feel the way milk must
as it drops
and swirls into a mug of earl gray
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