wavelets on the wall were colors i couldn’t find within
my own strings,
your hair, the color of copper dancing in the sunshine,
the tears you spilled the deliverance i
hungered for.
i want trees within my lungs, and i want the branches
to grow within me, so i can have leaves and flowers
and the need to need.
kaleidoscope horizons were kissing my brain,
and i saw you through vibrations,
and i wondered if all we are is
wires connecting
connecting.
radio wires attempting to find other waves that
will collide within us to make
beautiful music.
and i knew, knew, knew, that your vibrations
were made to shake and gallop within
my own drums.
and when i cried you told me i was beautiful and i
knew i was everything within the galaxies,
your goddess that held
fire within her
fingers.

his fingers pluck among my curves and i am his guitar,
and with each chord he strums my skin sizzles.
within my earlobes he whispers all the obscenity i crave,
murmuring tunes while our eyelashes flutter along
late night rainstorms.
among my neck he skims among pastures,
breathing beams through my clavicle.
his tongue riffs between my core, leaving ashes
behind.
he finds the beat within my hips, my pelvis
pounding and churning disco, rock operas, ***** rap
to the tempo of creaking
mattress.
his mouth panting lyrics, his teeth carving
notes.
with the growl of my name, i am singing it over
and over and over
and over.

God to me is nothing more than fiction,
but his attendance is fervent
when your tongue flickers between
my thighs.

between reality and sedatives,
I was a mermaid with green glimmering
scales and sopping hair with highlights of sun.
you were the sailor and I was singing you home,
home, home.

between ****** and originality,
I wanted to break the bed with
the daemons creeping between my cradles.

between fainting and breathing in
kaleidoscopes, the atmosphere
was nothing but the lines between your lips.

between ******* and sleeping,
******* and sleeping, I cannot remember what
real life felt like. between love bites and bruises,
I no longer want to know what clean skin looks
like.

between kisses and *******,
I have danced through clouds and
met with stars, and they have told me
what I already
knew.

i have mentioned i like morning ***.

but i have forgotten to talk about *** late at night. after one am. when you’re drunk. when you’re sober. when all you can hear is the sighs of the mattress and the far distant squalls in the streets, the sirens mewling past as your cries muffle into blackness.

the later the better, for you tend to hold on tighter, curl your legs behind his knees until he buckles. your name from his lips sounds like rainstorms. it is when your inner demons are released.
when his fingers dig deeper, his teeth scrape harder. he pulls until your scalp is burning, throttles until nothing but spit emanates.  
it is dangerous, it is lovely, it is living. you bite each other’s lips until you taste nothing but him, guzzling him until your internals are churning and gushing with him. you remember thinking how one drunken night at three am was enough.
but then he came again at four. then he came again at five.
and it was at seven in the morning when you were covered in his crux you couldn’t turn away. you wanted the morning ***, you wanted the late night ***. you wanted to be flooded and whisked until your
body was nothing but his
testimony.

the city winds had ****** me up and spat me back out,
and i thought i was so hip and unknown, with swirling
leopard prints and black gloved hands. a boy by my side
that looked at me with thunderstorms.
the city buildings shadowed me and protected me from
the truth attempting to leave bruises on my
buckled knees.
a tourist in uncharted waters, a damsel
who continuously puts herself in
distress.

my hair was Medusa, his fingers were
Dionysus, and when they fused,
our Mount Olympus was created, tasting like
berries and scratching at snake bites
scabbing and itching to be
reopened.

his kisses tasted like nostalgia.

i’m an american girl who is super glue, affixing
herself on whatever will stay long
enough.

you pulled the pearls tighter upon
my throat and maybe it was the alcohol,
or the way your tongue fit between my teeth
too perfectly,
but i swear i could see our atoms colliding together,
and i wanted our explosions
to fill the night sky with asteroids
and shooting
stars.

if i am a cloud, than you are
the bolts between the vapors.
with wool spinning between my canines,
i’m eating the white fluff like cotton candy.
your flares ***** holes through my dripping
crystals.
cumulus merging with stratocumulus,
cherry hues making love with
sunset oranges.
if i am a cloud, than you are the rain
droplets resting within me,
the sun rays shaking and quacking in
me