The Second Central Moment of a Bad Habit

Summer is almost ended lips smear my cheek like sweet honeyed peanutbutter until warm drops of rain replace the creamy smoothed on kisses wrapped in beach blanket words so foreign yet bound against my love Somehow collecting sea shells that call each wave home extracting meaning from the endless tides we walk the sandy edges to cradle clouds that paint billows and cushion our falling hearts I hear the cries even now and I don't believe in love I am such a liar…