stain my knuckle skin
sin slipped in in my half smile
half while i wasn't looking
booking yellow paint sprayed stains
stain spotted along this, my hand
my plan never was nor will be to
leap keep these streets in thoughts
body's bought will leave
evening our the remaining evenings without
even needing to knead the bread I'm eating.
Speckled spots wrought my hand.
But there is no shame named
different than fresh faced flesh
It never seemed sane
The skin oppressed so wildly light
whitely pulled tight when I
might just clench this
fist so it can kiss your lips,
not a fighter though so i might
just catch your slip.
But where do the paint spray stains stay?
in the the wintertime: intertwined in
mind and my clementine to find
within if you'll lend me back
my slipped sin which slipped in
my half smile half while
I wasn't looking.
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