Author: Johvan Calvo
Wouldn’t it surprise you if I said that something is missing? Through tight lips and hand prints. I love you. Sometimes said but most often not, sometimes meant but not a lot. It could last a month or a day whether I want the pleasure or the pain.
Wouldn’t it surprise you if I said that was my intention? I span the breadth of a non existent line. The pride of the man lost in the position of a woman. Shadows of filthy hands rob my value but I sit here and wonder why it is my hands they sever.
Wouldn’t it surprise you if I said you were one of the robbers? Your words tattooing the hand prints, your judgments penetrating my value. Dozens have come and gone but clearly none have taken anything, because if they saw I had some value then they would have stayed. No, I was wholly complete until another decided that somehow the number diminished each digit. Scumbags and liars, but none to blame, for it is I who judged their claim.