mona lisa

a sordid ache
stirring inside my veins
but recall when
the crush did not blow;

i can't think
that far ahead
i don't remember nothing
about anything no more.

he takes advantage
because he knows
i'm nothing
but need;

i'm the mona lisa
inside the museum
exhibiting and exuding
vulnerability.

at night i
open my mouth
and let the stars dance
upon my tongue;

he tells me to
make 1000 wishes
but i'll only make
a single one

(i wish to love
and be loved.)