where we used to we

people used to love here

where we used to we

in flowers and fun

before the mosquitoes

swell with thoughts of me

the semi-squeezed pimples

with hairs and ideas of being better

when i am not in a scarred terrain

with barren mountains for bones

and skies for the invisible forgotten

that is meant only for blood suckers

and blood letters and not much else,

though i suppose

the mosquitoes need me

just like i need them

so we can show each other

what it means to love

nowadays

*

what grows

grows what

like how this flame

licked to my lip

can burn me

or a forest equally

if i forget to suck it all

of life

for my life

and the sweetness of pine

and cherries that is given off

in coughing clouds