Monday, 23 May 2011


You touch my face –
Your finger end
Pressed on me like my skin should fail,
You make my body feel like paper film,
Cutting iron forms your nail.

When you touch I move away,
Not ever sure this face won’t crumple,
All these lines of black on white
In crushed up powders split and tight
Where my face breaks out to smile

Take your hand off

And I’ve flinched –
You’ve made
My lip a cherry snag,
And my heart is beating outwards
Lonely blood against your nail
Where two reds are there together;
Your finger polish,
Blooded nail

Those iron nails of yours unbedding
My life that holds the lacquer
Of mirror-mornings
And the clatter
Of new lipstick in my bag

Look at me
And see the part that you’ve left open
Spoiled with blusher, grease, and cream

You have seen all of the parts to me
You are now holding what I mean

My heart is yours you utter,
And my face I feel
Is seen

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