shot glass
"... brevity is the soul of wit ..."
- William Shakespeare

John Sweet


only when and always if

fading tan in october sunlight and
she says she's in love

says there are other ways to live but
she's tired of faceless men with
rusty daggers peeling back the
flesh to expose her heart

says she's tired of following poets,
of fucking priests,
and when she tells me i'll live forever
i believe her

when she smiles i begin to understand
how it might actually be accomplished