There’s no cure for a memory
and my wants burn just the same,
your touch is a lesson of patience,
you trace outlines on watercolour skin where a woman
got into my blood—
crackling sounds exiting fingers, are
the torments we are trade
in long afternoons of hands.
You wear questions
on your lips,
I shut your mouth with mine—
the replies are unforgettable,
signed in deepest-cherry colours of wet.
Naked,
to the bone,
our bodies move
like an instinct,
shedding all doubts like particles of sweat.
Salty liquids vaporise
to magnesium-ribbon ash,
licking our lips like a burned sugar future.
We started this fire,
for a reason,
and Me and You,
and the coming night
can’t turn away from each other—

Our fucking is a perfect unison,
like twinned bones of the wrist.

The streets we walk lost half their shade each morning
and even the moon can’t face these nights,
I put blood to paper
in the hope I could rent a little mercy
but you let each word dissolve
till all that’s left
are silent ways
I scream your name.
I pour my tears
like wine over an open wound
into a shattered ocean that swallows,
just the way you used to swallow me—
wanting.
The sky
is still empty,
but my eyes
are still full
of fierce limbs and the cool curve
of your thigh
and your hips will be the metronome.
Yes,
your fingers insist,
and you suffocate me
in the prettiest ways you know how,
slowly burning
up
together— a faded grey ash
on a hungry bedroom floor.
I’m a thousand miles inside you
but missing you comes in waves
and this one
hits me,
(and you hide it so well)
You’re a thousand centuries deep
and your voice still haunts me,
a thousand feet above a place
called nothing.

Kiss my lips
raw;
fuck me
into silence–
make me bite my lip
so I taste
mouthfuls of crushed blood
swimming inside me
for days.
Being close to you
is never about proximity–
it is about depth,
and that is the way
your mouth
collapses into mine. (And your hands.)
You love a smile
that’s an exit wound
and there were days when your kisses developed the habit of rusting on.
I can always tell by the look of a stain,
when it won’t come
out.