Lavender's Dungeon

11/23/2019

She spoke words of wisdom

What do you see in this boy?

his roots do not lead to the

western ferns and sand

he does not breathe security

The air he breathes

leaves a bad taste in her mouth

I do not tell her

how his hands,

like clay,

mold to shape

my constant edges

I cannot mention

the way his mouth

fills with long words

when he thinks

through his tongue

or how

I can see the darkness

flowing from his chest

a magma of the mind

causing colors to lose contrast

he looks at me like a painting

in his personal collection

running his fingers down my frame

inch by inch

admiring his taste

and for the air he breathes

when brushed upon me

fills my frigid bones

with a November sunset

over laughing people

instead

I tell my mom

of his brains

or his accent

some things are best left for the collector