sprinkle

you blur my vision.
soften the gossamer glare of lamp posts
and make the light beams foggy and separate,
showing each strand of reflective light vividly.
i’m under your advantage,
your manacles of trust.
for i am unbalanced and unsteady
with this blindsided view.
the musky, damp smell of a plethora
of old photos, tossed papers, and coloured ink-
-lying as an excuse on the floor of your car.
lying for excuses,
you put brevity in your profoundness,
keeping truth with your sage eyes.
naturally i am fragile and jejune for expecting something
worth your pliant time.
we are gasoline on fire,
spreading everywhere in a moments time,
covering every inch of ground with
barren words and insipid memories,
splashing insults on the lips we kiss.
lips that utter words.
lips that birth music.
lips that blow harmonicas.
lips that slip impertinent additional meanings.
for they are imperfect like magnolias,
painted with more meaning
and eventually become black.