Drunk as drunk on turpentine
From your open kisses,
Your wet body wedged
Between my wet body and the strake
Of our boat that is made of flowers,
Feasted, we guide it - our fingers
Like tallows adorned with yellow metal -
Over the sky's hot rim,
The day's last breath in our sails.

Pinned by the sun between solstice
And equinox, drowsy and tangled together
We drifted for months and woke
With the bitter taste of land on our lips,
Eyelids all sticky, and we longed for lime
And the sound of a rope
Lowering a bucket down its well. Then,
We came by night to the Fortunate Isles,
And lay like fish
Under the net of our kisses.

I strive for the taste of your tongue
the way your lips feel pressed against mine
I have never experienced anything better.
My heart races as you glide you hands all over my body,
oh how I miss the way you feel beside me.
You never fall short of making me feel so good.
When I look into those light blue eyes
I see myself,
a smile never seeming to leave
and wondering if you ever will.

The butterflies have fled.
In their stead rides an endless army
Through the valley of my insides
Raging, pillaging, burning
No mercy

We fall asleep to
       Strawberry Fields,
folding bodies to match an unfamiliar shape
and I must remember
   that certainly,
      you can't fall in love
  with every boy who gives you his hands
    and an irregular heartbeat
in exchange for the breath from your chest;
but sometimes
     
     I just forget.

Then the tears came flowing
Pouring down her face
And the release in relinquishing her pain into the open,
Even if it was her alone in her room,
Brought a stillness of peace
At least, the closest thing to it she'd felt in a while
And so she wrote and she wrote and she wrote
Hoping it would take the pain out of her and onto the paper instead
Let her make sense of it all
And figure out what to do.
But no help came and the picture remained muddled
So with her tear stained cheeks she curled up to sleep
Praying it would be her last