kill for love

 
she’s been a whore for men
who didn’t care about her
cared only that she was a whore

she stands in the rain under an umbrella
& wonders about the Korean girl with the facial scar
working the streets
reflects on how the scar makes her more beautiful
exotic.  she reckons she could take that girl to bed

she makes me write poetry
I know her hardly at all
but better than I’ve known a woman

she says she’ll be by me when I need her
& I believe her
I fall for her type, I suppose
a woman who is artful.  or just another whore

she could leave me for the nights we stole
she could cash in my markers for the desperate French kisses
& we could trade our broken hearts for coffee
at a diner off the lost highway

if she ever goes back to the streetlamps of old romance
she can scrub my lips off her body with the absinthe of lies
her ex-lovers will never know I was there

she’s complicated.  & she’s all the beauty I have
don’t want to fall in love so hard it kills us…


(Art: Katama)