what her jawline ignores

you have made me old,
a Buddha string hanging
from
a
daisy
a
tragic muffler
young
as palladium
green grass at the
dome
the girls are field
stones
on the path
qualified lovers
mark
an ocean
then a
grave
because of you,
i've
a hundred times
died stop motion
gray
if only your [photo] dancing where real
this time
lazy
and blue would
be beautiful and unchain
my heart
to sink through transparent
you