I like your love lies 

How they spread up into my hands 

Dissipate like water beads sprinkling across my skin 

I like how your twisted tongue turns poetry into song 

With verses that don’t rhyme 

I like 

How you lace my drinks with antiquity 

Quiet my sobs with ecstasy 

And paint them as honesty 

Your lips keep all of them contained within me 

Sealed with the kiss of your disdain 


Mattie Grace Levy

I'm a black woman, a classically trained oboist, a self-taught composer, and an introspective poet trying to comprehend my thoughts.

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