red chestnut

red chestnut,

you're home again.

for a season of gifts.

but there's nothing of value

that i want to give

(anymore.)

i miss the gower days

and my stomach spilling over

my bikini shorts.

when we felt no need,

to lay a mask upon our skin.

and it got burnt.

and we were innocent.

(i'm still innocent.)

when we planned the perfect kiss

with an artist boy.

well i got the perfect kiss with him,

when your eyebrows and eyelashes

were finally painted in.

and that makes me deserving

of all that you did?

we were just kids.

Reviews

[Black Carnival]

I love the use of words in this poem - and the way how you didn't rhyme the words, but it was still beautiful :D