Golden City (edit 2.)

[rowens]

cuts, scabbing into lines of poetry: the violence films
my lips as I search for the words to rip
the creativity out of you. it would be art only
if I stepped back, but for what would you flourish? 


I think you lose this train of reasoning too early.



bruises open like wine on your cheeks.


You could do something here with wine on or in cheeks; which is it? Flushing or wine like blood and bruises cut open?
And why?


so loving you is so much harder than knowing 
that I just do. already angry that we've outgrown
each other, I call only to hear you care
enough to ask why. this, 


Is this part on purpose, rambling like gambling? I mean, the lines of desperation and wording?


this 
lack of sense, 
is an example of gambling done wrong. 
it's a hazard, the hearts-
the lives, the chips- 
when we run out, 
all we can do
is bet on
more.