A true martyr

Oh what creeps from your early morning mouth!
The infant reek of a gutter perfume,
go back to sleep
my love, close your eyes,
for I will not
this morning or any other
touch my lips
to your open face
except with the intention of being
our loves
martyr
’cause I will surely shrivel and die
if I smell your breath
while the sun shines
and the bottle is dry.

A true martyr

Jonathan Acosta-Rubio

New Orleans, United States

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