Zeus

it seems we have this neglected approach

to African dresses and lost stitching. (she’s

so confused with her choice of coffee

that love is not even on the menu )

she cried in my car because she

saw those girls having fun,

loving each other, neglecting her.

so fuck the social media, fuck

the “in your face play by play

action of petty lives”. she gets it

and is only fourteen, but i sell

it to lovers, dreamers,

i write it mostly for you

but you’re gone

into the

mist.

It gets foggy, and rainy,

i wake up to see the sunsets,

nothing changes but my

storage on my phone.

you like my new poem?

you don’t even read me. you

prefer to touch me

in my sleep. wake me in my

death. i’m still a vampire, i joke.

you bite my neck and

slap my ass.

you kiss my wounds

and patch up my scars

with silence.

you know i’m giving

everything up soon.

it’s written in the palm

of my hand.

the final act.

i take a bow

for the new play.

it’s going to be

so dirty

and raw.

this is nothing.

it’s tragic how

Greek mythology

was a million years ago,

i’d rather live then

and believe in Zeus

and wait for you

to become a part of me.

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