You wild old man — heart aflame with a pocket full of copper, stout splashed lips thumbing through a tattered book of Yeats.
Let’s float on papered seas, let the water seep into us like ink.
Eating men like thin air, Or is it just my Plath heart? They come, they go. The things I’ve kept Left in a certain blaze. Can you see it? Black smoke rising. Wish you were ____.
When the night turns blue &my bruises heal all I want is you.