Out of Drops

credits to berlin-artparasites

credits to berlin-artparasites

It was always

When I opened

The knob

With my blue-inked hands,

The heat and filth pierced deeply

On my palms, ‘till it whacks my veins

Through my

Finger bones

It was always,

The grains of

Flowing drops

Out of strain,

First touched

My pink-spotted face

Like how it burned

By the expired facial toner

That I stole from my mom’s

Make-up kit when I was ten years old;

Or how I put the jelly thing

On my cheeks ‘till it burned like

A pale sunset.

It was the heat

That clothed the tiny parts

Of my pores

Like how I bathed from his ragged hands

And from his soundless kisses

Or how I sang the ode of bliss

When he kissed and painted

Violet rainbows on my hips

But now,

All the heat

And fluids

Don’t come easy.

As I stand here stiff,

Facing the hot water drops

And strawberry flavored froth,

It chilled every bits of him

On my body.

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