I can still remember the way your lips burned my skin, I've never felt a fire so desperate to consume.

I'm waiting for you to grow into your shoes

one minute poetry

Tell me your thoughts
Spilt from the wine you keep balanced
Delicately on the edge of a table
Sanded from the trees in a forest up north

The same wood you use to fill the holes
In the walls you put up
That you just can’t help but peer out of
Pretending there’s a lock

Step through,
You are not a man
You are a splinter in your own universe
A crack in the bottle of every wineglass you’ve balanced
Begging it not to fall.