the hollow between her neck and shoulders, deep like holy water stoup, has always been sacred to me.
i was sixteen then, foolish and in love.
i wrote her name on every piece of paper i could find and kept her in my pocket,
showed her what the world looked like in my eyes.
she had something in her, that girl. perhaps a cross between a crazed butcher and a catholic school kid.
with her you can never tell.
for a brief moment she let me know what heaven tastes like
she kissed me by the pool and i lost my head.
(time flew like manic Icarus. suddenly, as abrupt as someone braking hard, it was all over.)
four years later and i'm still looking for my sanity.
after her every mouth i kiss
just tastes like chlorine.