Justin Peter Kinkel-Schuster
moccasin bones
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In the dark your skin didn't feel human
It was softer, wilder, rougher
Like what we were doing
You smelled like you'd been working on a railcar full of roses
Sweating lilacs and drinking 7 and 7's at the horse track
So what is left for me now
That you're gone, gone, gone?
Your fingers tangled in mine were moccasin bones
That made their way down my hip
And found themselves a home
But even when I was with you somehow
I was still alone
Smelling lilacs and drinking like a lifer
At the horse track
So what is left for me now
That you're gone, gone, gone?