Sweeps

Your mother was a buxom woman
I never recovered
from all the things she taught you.

On Thursday nights,
we would meet to discuss
"the now",
while I stroked your hair
to prolong our supernova.

You could not understand
the prophecies of doom
in every kiss,
but how could you with
me licking them from
your lips?

I loved selfishly,
and memorized deeply
your skeleton;
'Though I never listened
to a single thing
you said.