Wolf

There's blood in my mouth
I've been holding back
five foot two and
feeling bold
I could be a stab in your back
I could watch the sky descend
with bitterness
at the colors left over the sea
little sad light memories

and
I'm only guessing that
as of now
there's a pretty thing in front of you
and I sit here and think of you
with your animal eyes and
twisted tongue
all the softness of a
wolf's fur
caressing the skin of a sheep

and now I'm looking for
a shotgun
or a little bit of relief
my mouth is bitter with the
sourness of your tongue
and I'm tired,
so completely stone rock tired
of feeling like your dried up,
broken, flower bud.