Aftermath

You wash me down

with a cup of tea;

after you said it was your turn

and how much you like

the taste of honey,

after you listened to me

like I was spoken word

poetry,

after you aced every equation

and traced every line,

after you conjured

every algebraic vowel

from my glistening lips,

bee sting mouth.

 


Β© Kristiana Reed 2018

8 thoughts on “Aftermath

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