Raspberries

Like a raspberry...

I see your voice

As it melts

Down my tired curves

While shaped by your curled lips

See...

I’m not the type

to get inspired on a first sight

Or a second...

But you scored me

Once and twice...

Maybe a little bit more than a twenty

Maybe a nineteen

Or a twenty-four

For I’m not good with numbers

But I can count the times you laughed

And the tones and keys

Played inside your laughter

I know the curls of your hair

Yet I can’t smell them

You’re not far

But you’re out of my reach

You’re a raspberry...

And I live in a country

That does not grow any...

And like a black lipstick on my pale skin

You crumble & stumble & drag your eyelashes over my eyes

And I wait...

Should I?

Are you listening or is it me, my vodka and my bitten lip in a basement of disappointments & colorful cards?