kampadejo

waking up next to you in the morning
dew on my lips and drops on my eyelashes
bruises on my collarbone
you’ve turned me into a sunset

there was a thunderstorm last night
pounding down on the canvas of the tent
nothing gets in, nothing gets out
sealed shut like my lips

silly girls, silly boys
when will we ever learn
that the outdoors is not made for us
but the other way around

so I’ll wait here on my folding chair
waiting for you to return with firewood
little sparks going up into the ebony sky
burning up like my heart

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