My moonlight girl is sleeping.

She finds me in my daydreams,
she creeps in and quickly leaves me.

She tells me she loves me- while I am unconscious.

I haven't heard her but I can read it in the smoke she leaves.

I can feel it in the wet lust that hangs in the air,
the sweet dew evaporating from my thighs.

I miss her when she is waking.

Dripping peach juice down our chins,
chasing each other in the fiery sunset.

Veins popping out of your arms
begging something I couldn't quite make out....

You would draw me.
Charcoal.
My body blown up on the big screen,
my curves soft like the smoke you were blowing out of your mouth.

The ***** videos,
followed by the sweet ones,
the ones with the sun in my hair,
our laughter electric as we fell down the rabbit hole.

The spray paint we dropped on the roof
as we ran from the sirens in the distance.

Electric, electric, you are my electricity.
No one can catch us if we float on air.

You said
"will you be my girl, will you be bad for me?"
And I slid down the slide, my legs scraping the mulch.
"For you babe. And you only."

The curve of your spine against my arm.
The freckles on your back,
the fine hairs on your neck pressing into my lips.
The warmth.
The light coming through the blinds,
your face illuminated.

You throwing up under the streetlights,
windows fogged, sleepy eyes saying:
cmon love lets just make it home.
Everything is gonna be okay, the police are gone..
Cut your losses, let's make it home.

Christmas trees in bay windows,
we watched them jingle.

I would leave love letters under your pillow,
in your car, whisper them to you as you drove.

Magic.
You're a magic man.

And in your boxes- your hidden treasures..
I would stare at them until you set me under another spell..

Your dark hair wrapped up in my fingers..
Another sunset.

Asleep in the back of your jeep,
in the middle of the woods,
river water burning my throat.
Listening to you *****-
always vomiting,
always kissing.

Peach juice dripping.

I knew a dangerous man.
You wouldn't know what he was.
But I could see the tight clench of broken fists.
The ****** tape carelessly wrapped around the
bleeding breaks in his hardened knuckles.
A murderers kiss is a rush.
It is a pool of water so hot it feels cold.
When was the last time you kissed someone
so passionately it caused your hair to stand on end?
It caused a chill down your spine- quick and ruthless.
I wasn't scared of dark eyes or dark mouths or dark hearts.
I wasn't scared of a bullet or a gun or an ******
that starts with a rope and a whip and
ends with bruises and my body pressing into broken drywall.
I smile at the danger in the threat.
Our intensity crumbled our surroundings.
We were the flash. The flame.
He was the thrill, I was the ******.
Have you ever wondered what hell was like?
People don't speak of the days they spend there.
They don't talk about the tortured memories that keep them awake.
A smoky afternoon and broken glass.
Cigarettes flung out the window with your decency.
Mangled innocence is okay as long as you
keep it contained enough to sweep out of the room after you're done.
Eyes like a black hole. Shaking desires.
And when he says beg, you close your eyes and feel the fire.
Have you ever loved a wild man?
Have you made him moan in the dead of night?
Have you ever been a pane of glass?
Have you ever had a brick thrown through you and been alright?
Have you ever known a bleeding devil and made his bed your home?
Have you licked his blood and tasted your doom?

And I'm so dark, so dark. Dark.
Dark like heaven must be.
And they don't ask why I feel this way anymore.
They just say my name like it is a razor on their tongue.

And he didn't do this to me- I would never give him that power.
But he made me quiet.
Staring out into the rain pouring over the rooftops of this
godforsaken city of unforgivable sin.
And oh. Oh. I know of the sin.

Quiet. Quiet.
And he rages. Ah.
I am the dark and he is the red.
The blood.
The clench of broken knuckles, ruby.
Ruby. Say it slow. Feel it. Do you?
It should ache.

And the quiet. That should feel tense.
Walking on eggshells- so quick to break.

A quiet that snaps and shatters into his rage.
His quiver. His break.
His molten anger.

They say beauty comes out of destruction.
"They" have never known pain.

He is too loud, too loud, too much.
Then too quiet. Not enough.
I.. Am not enough for him.
And when I touch, he pulls away.
I hide my face.
Brick by brick, I shut myself off from him.
I'm almost completely unreachable.

He says: leave me alone.
He says: I don't want to know.
He says: what now.
He says and says and says but it's never what I need to hear.

I say: nevermind.
I do not say: *******.

We are in the car.
He swerves,
says: I should run into a pole now.
A tree. That red car. **** that *****.
I want to die. Do you want to die today?

He screams.
He rages.
He turns the wheel, hard. Hard.
He lets go.
Hands clenched and rabid and
teeth and gleam and eyes so black, so black.
I've never looked at them before.
I wish I didn't look at them.

I am quiet. I am dark. So dark.

He says: sorry.
He says: this is when you say "it's okay".

I do not say: it is okay.
I say: *******.

We see the stars, that twinkle
That´s our impotence that,
we can´t see the stars that doesn´t twinkle
but they exist.
They exist in that dark universe
lightening their surrounding.
There comes a certain time for star, to
twinkle for universe,
but not every star has that potential.

and yea I am a star,
and I am fan of myself.