The broken bodies
the pulled hair
the hungry desire
the never enough—
we scatter these pieces
of ourselves together,
hidden
in skies, and
underneath fingernails,
and on those
white
pillowcases—
so we’ll find each other,
everywhere.
Your fingers
draw me tight
and make my lips shoot smiles—
arrows
piercing yours,
like mercurial kisses,
soaked in the taste
of dangerous habits,
and my thoughts of you—
the ones red in colour.
And I caught each speckle of your Cupid dust;
Every single one.
The familiarity
of
collarbones
sinking
into something
other than sheets;
of
vessels dividing oceans
that divide.
You are not
my only option
you are my only choice.
I write letters
to you
and hide the pages
inside old books
on white shelves.
My words,
casually fuck
to the tune of black serifs,
and the everyday hardcore of dog-eared pages.
Pinned-
their flourishes become slicked
with a passionless sweat
of another’s ink—
until I mail them…
into the fire.
You,
in your north and west
spend summer nights
sleeping naked. Cream fingers clutch
-ing cool sheets to you
in a soft bed of my thoughts.
Milky quartz slides
to-and-fro,
its silver band dances
as you catch wishes
that waft down(ward),
like feathers
from a nightly bird in magnificent flight,
and freeze
in that soft illumined light.
And so falls
the darkness like a silken hour,
clothing you with with
a brush of your skin that
feels like lovers
Loving.
You softly hum
never seven
Ever;
smiling at the colour of our
taste
and thinking of
Me.
