can't be your chapped-lips-chap-stick,
be your late night calls or
your first morning breath, can't
be your warm fingers and can't
be your blooming bruises around
the neck.

all it will take

floral pants, a 

better sense of humor, 

some ability to maneuver between

sleep and the pre-dawn hours, 

enough of a house to keep 

the bugs out

the cat in

and a handful of 

mountains outside

my door. 

There are people whom, upon entering the room, 

make me wish I could vomit on cue. If just to show them

what a bad taste

they leave 

in my 

mouth. 

I am no polished, smooth-skinned, arms extend-
ed beauty. I have no sleek-and-shine, just
too much 
extra 
time.