my tight tired eyes
swollen plump with beets
four years flew by
and no poem stirred
in this nest of earth
as i became a beestung herd
you asked me about hardness
you asked if i’d been afraid i’d never be kissed again
without an icicle’s inkling if you meant by you or ever
my heart seized up, crunched upon itself
with no clue which was worse
©️ 2011
Originally posted on my DeviantArt
Mischa Fox 