Shelter

His kind of love is

a weapon of mass destruction. 

He falls over and over 

destroying the hearts of 

crowds of the most innocent 

         women. 


He is a terrorist,

a heartless beat,

with a mind set to reach

a point of detonation

in 5,4,3,2...

tick*

BOOM!!!!




Danger... danger... 

follows me

danger... danger...

I cut my connections.

There is nothing stranger

than the thought of another

knowing my wiring.





You found me on this 

dance floor that feels more like

a bomb shelter

you don't know me

I've lost my phone and ID


Smudged eyeshadow 

shimmery darkness 

across my cheek bones

resembling the aftermath of a blast




In your arms 

I find a bomb shelter..***

And on my lips  you taste 

the residue of an explosive passion 

that is not ours...