No, those are not tattoos.A Poem by Francis Dangerthey are stars that have fallen, they are just so tired from it all that they are taking a break on my wrists.
it was 3 a.m. when i asked you what you were doing,
half-awake, half-drunk, half-lying off a chez lounge on your belly in the front lawn you had looked sad all evening, like happiness was a thing that people could physically have or touch and someone stole that thing from you. but this time you were smiling. you were looking at the stars and you were smiling so brightly that i couldn't make out where the sky ended and you began. "i named them all" you said. and so i took the hook of your bait and lowered into my mouth and asked what you meant. "i named all the stars after my worries, i named each star after a care and problem and worry i had. i had a lot." "why did you do that?" "well, because, uhm, well, they're both going to be here long after i'm not." it was 3:05 a.m. when you kissed me for the first time. but at that point, the time didn't even matter anymore.
© 2013 Francis DangerReviews
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StatsAuthorFrancis DangerPhiladelphia, PAAbout31, M. editor and creator of A Secret Machine . Com, staff writer for PA Music Scene, former editor of The Disembodied Americana. professional technologist. semi-professional writer/ artist. ama.. more..Writing
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