Peccancy
Location
Sweetness stings my tongue and
they call it a poison,
but I’ve given worse things
the pleasure of reaching my lips.
Everyday before lunch I watch
as smoke rings circle
her troubled face like halos
and I know she’s never
committed sin.
You wouldn’t be wasting your time
feeling guilty if you had seen
the effects of real poison.
Poison that spills
across its own creation,
waiting while she withers.
I’ve seen her cower
from its resentment
even when it’s already been
shot into her veins.
I see it showing through her
pale skin like sepsis
and I can only imagine
the bruises within her when
I see her flinch.
Yesterday she told me she hadn’t been
to school in weeks
and I cried.
I held out my hand for her.
She didn’t reply.