butter *

smeared languidly
by
the middle finger on my
left hand, the
blood i wiped on my pants blotched
the thin, greying material, between
the spatters of paint.

you were oozing
between your shoulder blades, left of your spine
on the scapular
tattooed wing that webs
across you

i licked my finger
let the salt and tang dissolve into my tongue,
the way i want
to melt
into our lives, without interrupting
you, or me

effortlessly

as simple as freeing
you of droplets
that would have
stained your shirt.

i don’t mind shit
on my jeans.





*senior thesis poem