Fresh Produce

Kisses manufactured for any moment, feeling themselves unravel neatly on my mouth. Cookie cutter kisses.

I miss homemade kisses. Whipped up out of the moment – the rain outside the window, the laughs lingering in corners that melt from blue walls easily onto my open lips.

But I’m here, pretending to fall back asleep. The same small puckers punching themselves out on my pout, my nose, my forehead… Coming from a boxed set.