Making Blisters

night changes

like caterpillars creeping
leaving behind obscurity like a
lost lover
a miniaturized reformation

A new day will come to
the Enlightened

old souls with Grace
who know that night must follow the sun
tagging along like a small tot
rubbing sneakers and
making blisters

daylight comes like
a car crash
reckless and bleeding
like sympathy

Blood pools like oil.
Broken hearts like chandeliers
held up by a strand
held in a stranger’s hand
my hand, my own.
when
I love to love strangers
When I am
Getting to know a nobody
wasting the evening
with whoever fits
hands like god's hands
crushing
Killing me, touching me
that love to hold

like a starving child
I am crushed by my hunger

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