Is this it?

Am I losing my grasp?

Has my jealousy
given way to greed?

Can a frightened child
also be a dictator?

A hoarder of hearts
I often grab too tight

I feel their blood
trickle through crooked claws

yet still I hold them

for fleshy pulp
will not run

I know it will rot
but I'm tired of longing

The smell
like tar in my lungs

yet still
I've not learned

that pulp deteriorates
far quicker than can be stopped

perhaps these claws
will once again be kind.

My hair
floating as though in water

This charge
This alien charge

Puts a buzzing
ringing in my ears

This tongue of mine
is it made of copper?

No, this is not rain
pouring down my brow

this is it.

In a flash, I'm struck
pierced to the ground

And yet

Over me you stand
arm extended

While warm rays
caress my now scarred skin

In this summer morning
you dab my forehead

Gently with a damp cloth
you say you're sorry

That you never meant to hit me
but I'm oh so glad you did

Please,
never let this dream end.

You spectre
you wraith!

You evade my arms
my helpless mortal limbs

To be haunted
but not by hate

This is truly
the unknown

The void
that is spoken into existence

This heartless limbo
it's the space between

My throat
and your bared fangs

and my curled form
and your lap

Perhaps this is what
would cause Houdini to drown

The comfort of your currents
and the warmth of your tendrils

Pulling me under

deeper

deeper

deeper

but I will not fight

for death has never seemed so kind

Your rosy cheeks
you think are ugly

But perhaps you don't understand
how some wish they had

A permanent rose tint
or eyebrows like scimitars

My words could never
ever do you justice

To say that your jaw
is like a cliff

Sharp yet smooth
is an understatement

But I
in my hubris
Will attempt to describe
the beauty of perfection

The beauty of an autumn meadow
or conifers whistling in the breeze

Eyes that show
distant supernovas within

And arms that may warm
my cold cold heart

But for now
I shall just be stumped

Because eventually I do hope
to be driven insane

To do so trying to understand
every little bit of you

And writing it down
on some small paper

Many have asked
To be my muse

But those who ask
Shall never receive

But those who see
The broken in me

And still choose
This dying heart

They shall feel
Its shallow beat

They may know
The words I sew

The words I sew
Into silk, the golden kind

And they may drink

The blood from my arteries

Oh yes

You’re the golden poison
Flowing in my veins

Glittering death
With open arms

Acid in my veins

Burn me
As my heart pumps

Tear my dead skin
Like it’s a prison

Tear it with anger
Tear it with malice

End it please
I can’t take it much longer

Yes you’re ice
You sap warmth

You sapped mine for a year and a half
Though I did play my part in it

I’m not mad
Never at you

You cannot blame
The ice in the tub

You’re the warmth of winter
Penetrating my veins

You’re hypothermia
A death I welcome like a friend

Making the cold warm

I WANT TO BE WARM

You do not blame

Your frosty lungs

When they give out

I need more steam

You see

Fire is needed to live

But cold is a killer

You are icy
When my fires melted you

You doused me

But you cannot blame gravity
For what falls

No

The cold is painful
In a lethargic sort of way

It’s a war of attrition
Against yourself

Wars of attrition
Are hardly ever won

The cold makes you desperate

Irrational

It’ll take your life if you let it

But again

The cold is not to blame