Your Who-Nose

There is a way,
there is a way in which your soft
who-nose snugs into the slight
crevasse of my right side
where the dog bit me,
where I provoked him and he pounced.

your soft who-nose could
cover it up, the subtle curve
pressing away the cresent of a
scar where I once cried for a long while.

if only I had the bravery to tell you,
then could our lips possibly meet in
a true who-like way, a slow drag upon
each others breath, so much like your
many cigarettes, and then a soft pull
away to stare into eyes filled with
interest or disinterest…
I’m yet to know which.

one thing is for sure, i’d like to find out.


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