I want to find this **** poem the tigress has inked on her dainty wrists.
The tigers have found me, it says
        and I do not care.
a simple memory of the woman who smoked
read
        and liked me more than I knew
        how to deal with.
I guess people who read poetry
        care more about it
        than those who write.
and that girl had hips.
        *** to stop wandering gazes and hold them
        even when ADD is everywhere.
she loved me, maybe
something I didn’t understand
        because I was always thinking about her ***.
You’re crazy again,
        you fool,
        let it go.
those times are gone
        for now.
she’s gone
        for now.
I couldn’t even find the ******* poem.