after Shane Koyczan

But your kiss, my dear,
is an ignorant virus
that pollutes itself

to every nerve of my body;
violently entering each cell
like a prison guard.
And when you think

that your travelling lips

are pattering
little pebbles of love

on the shore of our marriage,
they leave nothing but
open wounds,
longing to be nursed
by someone else.


A response to Shane Koyczan’s “6:59am

When: May 21, 2011
Where: Home

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