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.

You told me that
the stars were your
best friends.
That you paint
the twilight sky
midnights and crimsons
and magentas.
That each comet tail was
a strand of your fallen hair,
torn away by your tender
fingertips,
and that each meteor
was a bit of you
shedding your broken skin.

You screamed to me
that there was life,
beyond our little
self-aware planet.
That you had met them all,
shook their hands,
kissed their babies.
You were appreciated,
not like home.
They loved you.
Plutonian dollars
held your face,
and Pluto was,
indeed, a planet-
noted, and you screeched;
Your favorite,
in fact.

You told me you
were God--
and your eyes
those blank, lost eyes,
they shone with your smile
for the first time
in the infinity of
the universe.
You believed yourself,
and I couldn't
bring myself
to deny your
honesty.

You can be
my God,
if it makes any difference.

I want to lose myself
in an illogical need
for love.

I want to remember
to forget
how to breathe.

*What is Air
if not you?

We are two nebulae*
across the galaxies that
chart our hearts,
the stars that mark
your freckles,
and the forever
in the length of your
smile.

We could create infinity
with the rip of
this black hole
our touch leaves
in its wake.

I would beg for this,
but, I am a lone, jaded solider
searching for a sun
full of candles,
and instead found
a golden God
full of this
lustrous feel.

I lost myself
in the shell
of his definition
of eternity.

We were painted faces
on the memorial of
hearts, that were
crushed to rocky
shambles.

Innocent and alive
and infactuated
with the chase
and the thought of being
in love.

There was no regard for
forgotten lovers or
broken-winged doves
because, with your face in mine,
we only saw each other.

We were the sweetest
taste
in the darkest
brew,
drunk and young
and impressionable and
dependant.
We were the bullets
shot from the
same barrel,
whose handler's name was
Cupid,
and whose imprit read
'Love'.

I am the one who
hit the ground
first.