makeup confused

Them criss cross lines that connect us through the ether of time and forgetfulness
To see your picture and not recognise your story
Is there more than air; do miracles of appearance
in a more than extreme spread of history injected in
scratches in the skin and the spread of wild fire over
past salacious thought that was once the definition of delicacy
is hidden behind hundreds of sinning Sundays

spent stealing from the self the agreements that you made
the glasses that you emptied into the pits of absorbing tissue
each bet that you placed each drop that you swallowed and each
time you yelled and forgot to check the waters were not rising
the risks you took with the drink and the blinking regard to safety
on the highway of robbery on the fly-way of snobbery

you picked from the most expensive teeth
and grow fur coats on their backs
them criss cross lines that connect us through the crossroads
the times best forgotten – the times we wished were finished
when would you leave?

it became hard to not offend
but the absence of hugging
the absence of nakedness
the walks around the lighthouse
comments about the poverty of weeding
ignoring the sea, the blinkers over
the eyes the surprise at the storms
drip drip the blood pours from her wounds
as her fingers can no longer hold the edge of the well

she slips away, loses the wager, can not be recognised
this is not evolution it is goodbye