my lover is dubious of it

15 May

every time i see bull thistle

i think of you

how you wore your hair wild

while i wondered

which shoe you kept your drugs in

the you that said on your tombstone

it would scream

i don’t want to hurt you

but i will

as i admire the dense and prickly stalks

the blazing pink heads

of the bull thistle

i smile about the you who

took a blood oath

under a willow tree

in one hot texas

hour

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