Sally Sells Seashells at the Seashore
Everything you say
is water, dripping
down my throat.
It tastes like raindrops
on my tongue and
it's hurricane season.
I can see right
through the lies
slipping softly from
your lips. But I
still can't catch
my breath. And I
will make you coffee
in the kitchen, lay
your clothes upon
the bed, open my
legs at your command.
And even then, I
feel strangely like
a shell upon the shore.