dear briar, you are twinkling.

if I should smile,
you could find yourself
twirling, deeper,

like his fingers wrapped around a vine
or a vine twisting me
out of my insides,

either way I am refreshed and
either way, the fountain of youth
is flooding.
[too bad we’re a few hundred centuries late]

you drink from my cup, yet you feel no remorse.
{for the blunt force used, to exude all the evidence
I DIDN’T have. . .}
and I demand a refund, an apology,
a coarse-textured hand to hold on to
since you find it too hard, to be the one
to hold on.

in this ring around the ; ring around the
[this fire blazing in my head.]

this empty wall dripping on my bed,

I’ll never sleep
if it means
I must dream of you.

Currently unavailable for purchase

dear briar, you are twinkling. by 

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