dancing with blood on my tank top

dancing with blood on my tank top threads of always from my breast undulate shame, a little cough, a little dress, but the shame isn't.

we're quilts

see

maybe it's because of the molly or he's just scared but damn that boy can bleed, divinely

a mouth like his red denim peach slices so close to mine medically bewitching I couldn't talk.

so his blood is on my tank top doesn't matter, mine is on his I love him strong eyed and mortal I love him.