your breath hangs thoughts,
you dispel air.
your lips note worthy,
but not believable.
Your voice spills words
of sultry'd availability,
your drink spills. insolence of words,
and after.
one apology.
Like it has no control,
or bearing,
on that winter'd ship.
You cast sail towards our infinity.
The giant zero. what is it called?
Nothingness. It has no measure. no value.
no ability, for more, than a hundredthousand sweet nothings...
We have skyscrapers of contempt in the basement,
with Sera on second floor, answering all of the calls.
Ink stained, her middle right, her finger.
Her Fatima prophecies also scrawled
to her left hand side.
with mom on speed dial one,
a father, on two,
and eight more she has had never held down.
