Palmetto Girl
golden summer baby
with blue sky in your eyes
and butterscotch lipgloss
put on to be kissed off.
there’s saltwater in your blood
and storm clouds on your shoulders
that evaporate beneath the touch
of raindrop fingertips.
you’re a beautiful idea
created to be kept and
used
and adored.
so long as man can hold you
in the palm of his hand
and high tide’s teeth can sink
below your skin
let it be known
that you will be loved.
Losing Touch
golden summer baby
the kid i used to be
if only you’d wear
your prettiest face
and come back here to me.
they don’t want me anymore,
not like they did before
i was touched-
by rage and remorse.
so i let them slip away.
i don’t know how to make them stay.
if only i could be
gentle -
maybe i’m just losing touch.
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