The Sticky Clay

In the city street lamps, flashing neon lights.

Waiting for a greyhound on a Tuesday,

The autumn air damp with tears of rain,

I feel you kiss me and then you’re gone again.

Just like some foreign particle that’s spewed out of your heart.

I’m just a passenger.

But just for now,

Hold me till my body breaks

Till it splinters into thousands of tiny pieces

Like the crushed glass inside a crystal ball.

I want to mold the cold clay of your bones

And dress myself in the soul that’s falling

Out of your skin.