You Taste Like A Mouth Full Of Maybe


Mouths Full Of Maybe

I still haven’t mastered kissing with my mouth
i’m far too busy doing it with my heart
my friend thinks it’s bizarre
that i am stingy with my tongue and do not often meet faces
i’d like against mine
i tell her

i would love to kiss them all
i would love to invite strangers inside
i wish i could fuck and leave and run and not care

but my body is already hollowed so i don’t need more empty
leaves me seeing patterns in ceilings that look like
dancing electrocardiograph lines in my father’s hospital room
i kiss each time like a first time with potential
and hope
and maybes
so i don’t kiss many people

because i don’t want to taste nothingness

i want to taste possibility.


We fucked like jazz,
but never enough.
I would start the record player over again,
Skip a track,
Back to the start.
Drunk on the saxophone
They could hear us from down the block.

For Now

nothing about us was meant to last
we were illegal firecrackers
and $5 sunglasses
purchased at tiny corner stores
impermanence stuck like pieces of corn in our teeth
we were always going to fall out
we were always going to break apart
I just wish we had done it quietly
without waking the neighbors
without alerting the world
without shouting from rooftops
our expiration is here.