I swallow 20mg a day
I stay quiet next to you
I don't tell you you're the most beautiful thing I've seen in months
I know you're hungry
You don't eat your mother’s dinner
You eat me instead
I'm trying to find a way to tell you that your a heaven sent angel with a fat halo
But you grab at me and I can't speak clearly
My life with you have been episodes of this:

Departure, love, destruction and departure again
I scream you want it
you asked for it
you stood in my doorway wanting me
drawn to me like moth to a flame
Just come here again
Let me turn you over and hurt you again

Floating through the stars in my head
It suddenly feels like, I couldn't belong anywhere other than your bed
And it scares me to the point of madness
How quickly you've picked me up
How here, right now I could burst with the ferocity of a thousand suns
Because when you kiss me it feels
Something like magic
Through my body surges of light come through the cracks in my skin
They shine onto you
It's only that I think you're heavenly
And when we collide
I finally breathe again

Stop darting your eyes lover,
Believe me when I lie to you.
This is not blood on my hands,
Just cherry ridden love.

Let me spread you apart against my body.
I leave you purple;
Wondering how lips could have such depth.

You are the color of the moon
Pure in complexion,
But I am ravenous, lover
My hands are harsh on the skin.

I might be black and blue,
But I'm pink and gold for you.

Don’t become infatuated
Don’t fall in love
Especially not with poets
Because they only ever exist in their words
They will write you love poems, and lengthy paragraphs
With words said in ways you have never heard before
You will fall in love, with love poems, the way they say their vowels, and the look in their eyes when they read to you  
They will lull you to sleep with sticky sweet words
And they will speak of the colour yellow, in a new light
A new meaning will come to its definition
And it will slowly become your favorite colour
You will wear yellow dresses, and put daisies in every room  
You will see the speckles of yellow in their brown eyes
But you will find them at three in the morning sitting in the bath tub, bathing in the words of metaphors
You will find them having an affair with Stanzas and Verses at the same time, sleeping with sonnets
You will see that poetry was always their mistress
At night they will no longer share blankets with you, but they will wrap themselves in ballads and couplets
You will only be able to express this new distance with eulogies
You will start seeing yellow everywhere
In the beds of your nails, and them hems of your skirts
Till you start seeing it so often that you will want to puke up every word they have ever said to you
You will realize that talk is cheap and Rhymes are easy
You will realize that poets only ever exist in their words

1127

Soft as the massacre of Suns
By Evening’s Sabres slain

'but suddenly, you're 30 and blasting the songs that you wanted to die to when you were 15.'

May I wrap my tongue with words I struggle to say out loud, and kiss you instead?