People change when things
don’t last for the sake
of counting unread letters.
Fireproof until temptation
burns her past to ashes,
rearranging the way I see
what I had in her.
Holidays camping in Georgia,
eating a peach between her
legs.
Hotmilk in her breasts
washes down what’s
meant to last in streams
of a supernova.
Forever beat in a small box
that I bought in silver.
It’s a sliver of what
she’s worth,
but my pockets hold lint.
She swore me to stay the same
changing for no one.
Far more than I reserve
the right never to change.
I’ve changed completely
I suppose.
Twitter – @AC0040
(© 2022 AC)
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