I feel different -
Older
I rest my spine against the red clay
And thrust my hips to the sky.
I sweat those unsweet memories
In salty, unfiltered beads
And they explode, pensively
Causing volcanoes
And growing molten flowers within the dunes
Glorious in this Crimson yearning
I let go of nineteen,
Naivety,
And whiskey-sours
I smoke weed to sleep soundly
And listen to Labrador snores
In place of crickets.
I realize that pain is beautiful
And meaningful
And
-painful.
