I Burped After I Wrote This Poem by Jena Crowe

I love that you resemble an inmate,
drive a nissan altima
and give women flowers when they cry
which waters down my admiration
just a tad-

If you're hiding a tattoo somewhere
show me soon, before I spit you
out of my dry mouth
and demand a life sentence
near a dying tree

I'll tie my secrets to cinder blocks
and drop them into a fishing lake
imagining our prison
if you ever cut my throat with your lips-

Your beard, a witness
to this alleged love.