sugared out


his brow creases
when her day is slick,
when she is an oiled
and empty cat, when she slips
on sunlight into eve,

when sweetness runs thin. she has slumped
in the backseat,
by the water. she has slumped,
like a grave marionette of dead wood
and string.

she carries,
for his peace of mind,
bitter bottles of immediate lime.

copyright d. dixon

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byWickedEve© 2 comments/ 1882 views/ 0 favorites

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