Jasmines bloomed between
The gaps of my fingers, are now
dying at my feet. Whiff of
rotting petals, won’t reach
the bridge of your nose,
till you’re knee-drenched
In guilt,
With your
buried body wrapped in moss.
You look at me like a prayer,
I look at you like a sin.
I was never taught how to love
without (my) shame
getting the best of me.
