I’ve never studied the ***** of a nose so much.
Never wondered, thoughtful and inquisitive, how it would feel pressed against my raspberry cheek.
It’s the same shade of the lights that flash ‘stop’ against your skin, and that’s the same colour that I imagine the sun will flash when it burns and dies.
You lift my hand and kiss it.

Maybe this quiet is all I have.
I’m blind and lost and stumbling terribly. You see it all, first hand.
But I see you. Every curve, the way your lips turn upward when your kisses move up my wrist.

I’ve never been so lost in something before. Never so uncoordinated, never so unsure.
Maybe this will be like this forever. Maybe I will never learn to curb that which takes me, sharp teeth and violent, to the place where my quiet peace rots. Maybe the sun will burn out all too soon.

But for now, there’s you. Your nose. The red lights across your face.

You put my hand down to your thigh. The lights turn green.

this is where it ends.

the line in the sand is drawn,
and I wonder
if we will recover from this

a twisted knife in my chest
unfeeling and distant
(like you’ve always been
why am I surprised?)

there has to be a ‘we’ for us both to recover.

has it ever been together,
or have we always been two
seperate people?

you used to ****** me away
dark fingers in the night,
watching the hot lights flicker onto the television
as your beast panted and snarled in the driveway

I don’t think I’ve ever been yours
not really
not in a way that matters

the line in the sand has been drawn and I cannot recover from this.

there’s a scar now, on my chest
white and deep, cut from silver and a blazing hot summer
you told me everything I needed
you don’t look at me the same anymore.

did you know
we are made
of stardust?

a million wishes
are made upon
our bones
our eyes
and our blood

every night we see
a part of ourselves
dotted in a technicolor sky

every day we bid
those stars a good bye
until the night comes again.

how dependant
we seem to be
on stars.

how dependent
we are on
each other.