post-valentine’s day

it was a white collar
printed with red lipstick
that gave you away
you said we could do it over
if only i could forgive and forget.

if i only i could forgive and forget
a deep red pulse in my mouth
dropped into a bucket of white paint
that we used for the bedroom.
i hate the color pink.

i hate the color pink
some liminal threshold between
red and white that surrounds us
and a dozen empty buckets
in the bedroom.

in the bedroom
where you are in my mouth
you paint me little white lies
i splatter red all over the walls
and it is not paint.



  1. The subtle repetition is perfection. I’ve never seen the color pink quite that way before, and I’m pretty sure I won’t think of it the same again.


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