“Cold Pink”
Things could’ve gone differently forever
two rivers pulling out separately
in overlapping bliss,
rougher than a cat’s tongue,
welded to a serpent’s jewelry one,
alone to give me your grave
talons: your treasure chest of secrets
your spite of alleyway views
sirens in your destinies few,
a yesteryear full to the brim with us
but your waves goodbye
are fleeting as lives of pets
happier than my bikini burning,
last in her class, hold hands with your pink through a peach orchard,
past deep-sea rose gardens, tasseled, twin rivers pull.
nicholauspatnaude 