Poetry: Pieces

We kissed with broken beards
Lopsided and sticky and stank
Littered with the rotten forbidden fruit
Leaving behind the taste of sour

The eyes left not introduced
Thrown out with the throes
And the blunt object towards my visage
That almost nipped the thorns of my sharp tongue

It was not you there again with me
As my shadow melted on the wall
I left again for a rhymed reason right
And made peace with my half apart

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