Nana mon amour

You used to say that pizza always sucks once you’ve had your last slice you’d grab the best sneer to mimic all those moments we couldn’t box in would have your forehead slipping into eternity by stroking the surface of boiling water would complain about pain like it it could go away with high frequency and would dress my happiness like the first day of school would remove my patience strip it back like sun-dried skin extract the life out of mouldy glimpses pour it back into sudden itches