The beards grow slow on our cheeks, generations of shivering December cold meeting summer heat, and our voices speak with unraveled wrath and sorrows of the tricks and cheats which played us in bars, in apartments, and in the cars we stole during flowering spring.
You craved out our winter hearts pouring frozen solid blood over the midnight dresses, and suits, and ties, over the dinner tables set to perfection covered in flies and shattered glass.
Our noses are big, crooked and split from elbow hits, peeling skin, snorting coke and overwhelmed with your kisses of spit.