Pick-pocketed courage
an approach
I have seen you seven times now
Each time I stood still
willing the clocks to stop long enough
to bask in the churning pot of evil
to categorize your smell
to visualize you crying
at my inevitable
indifference

We all have different boiling points
you would cook my tolerance to mush
and I would watch you grovel
remonstrate
the expiration date
of this relationship

Sirens sleep in sheets of solitude
spooning buckets of chaos
where pervious hearts bob at the surface
gasping out airy lullabies
for the fickle