palimpsest / s. l. b.

peeling through strata of you —
layers of ever darker blue.
the deeper into you i sink,
the richer the hue,
the darker the ink.

i ask
‘what wounds you,
what’s your itch?
what’s the cure
and what’s the stitch?’

you reply
‘here’s the sitch:
i always was
a sad lil bitch’