We’ve reached the pit. I’ve always wanted
your bare knuckles against me, leaving
*
marks. Hold me accountable!
I thought you might have saved
*
me something, or I imagined
your delight when I tasted,
*
spit. Forgive me, prince.
You were so sweet
*
and I was so cold.
I won’t say I love you.
*
My bruised neck purple yellows,
dried lavender and yarrow.
*
More thin-skinned than I remember
bursting sweet. You know
*
everybody loves you.
Everybody loves you.
About the Creator
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More stories from Joe Nasta | Seattle foodie poet and writers in Poets and other communities.
If You Love Me, You'll Do It
I met Jason when I was five years old. I could say that I loved him from the moment I saw him. He was so handsome to me and I felt in awe by his presence. When they introduced him as the new kid in school, I wanted to be his friend right away. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember his smile and how he didn't seem shy. He appeared confident and ready to learn. I waved at him and said "hello," before anyone else could even say a word. He sat next to me, and I asked him if he wanted to be friends. He looked so happy as he said, "Yes!"
By Sidney Smith (Sid Smith)6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Wonderful work, Joe! I really enjoy the way your thoughts dance around-- also, your word choices and structure :)
Very plumful work, Joe.