Some Love Is Open Eyed and Complacent.
She washes her hands at night.
Presenting the smell of soap,
As an apology.
The woman curled inside bedsheets,
Is innocent enough to be touched.
Prior hours spent.
Playing cat & mouse.
Her pink lipped pout,
Evading throbbing “purple onions.”
To Goose-Bump abuse.
There's a lip curl
That she calls a smile.
She tricks the eyes
Into thinking her pockmarks
Still after all the love.
That's not a lie.
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