you’re standing at the door on the porch with your chest open wide, swinging from its hinges,...

you’re standing at the door on the porch with your chest open wide, swinging from its hinges, and I don’t think about anything except walking straight into the ash and comfort and cigarette smoke of you and leave all my hurt at your feet and I greet you with a kiss and curl my edges around yours until I am soft and silken and molten steel and we greet the purple morning with a kiss and it kisses us back, right on the mouth.