Take me.
Take me with you
into your world where
the sun sets teal
and the sky bleeds music.

You can say that it is beautiful, but
my breath will only be taken away
when I look left
at you.

Your pure essence presses down
against my ribs, and I joke
that I am smothered.
Really, you ignite a flame
in me that your slender fingers
keep smoldering with
each bruise on my thigh.

I promise you that
I wouldn't hurt me, but it is okay
if you do.

It's easy to pretend
that your sharp teeth
were made to leave holes of your love,
rather than holes for my heart
to spill at your feet.

You push me away but
it is just another game;
I can be knocked down but I
will always win if I
capture you
again.

Take me.
Take me with you
into your world where
the wine seas push water
to lap against my coffin.

Lackadaisical nostalgia is the
only print
right from you.