Spilled Lip

After reading Kral Majales (King of May)


the rip of cold, cold air on flesh

this rush I get from your kiss

a fleecing of my lips

a Word pressed into breath


it spreads across

catches in every throat

gives pause


I was once the King of August

in dorms with single beds

a practiced goodbye

skull shattered from impact


a sad wreck I became

a messy poet


a cavity of grief

a face wretched

with spilled lips


a cold, cold night sealed with a cold, cold kiss

I wrote this poem from a cold, cold seat in a bleak room

mid Hell.


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