i was supposed to forget about you.

i was supposed to forget the nights we spent
sharing breath, saliva, sweat
and yet you're still here, and it's like you never left
it's like you're still more important than he is.

i can see now, the twisted smirk on your face
if i were to tell you this.
how proud you would be to know i still belonged to you,
completely and wholly.

let's be honest, darling you never lost me.

the last time we spoke you told me
there were still feelings that lingered
that i was still the most beautiful thing you'd seen
but you were never going to say it again.
if only i'd had the gall to tell you i still felt the same.

"it kills me to see you with him," you said.
i flash a weak smirk, because it kills me too.
i made a home in you and i'm struggling to move out.

your fingers carve canyons in my spine
digging to the deepest reaches of me,
and i am exposed.

you are pulling me close enough to you that
it is a surprise that we do not melt together;
your skin becomes mine; mine, yours.
we are one and the same.

you are changing my geography;
i am shaking, an earthquake.
you have broken open my fault-lines.

i have been told that bites, craters,
are lovenotes on the skin.
what, then, are these,
these canyons that trail my back?

you have left scars on me:
not scars that wound,
scars that change.

the storm came for my love and i,
anxious pattering, peaceful roaring;
we watched as the storm marched forth,
an unsteady soldier.

we strode out to the air, heated with july's burn
yet frozen by bullets of rain.
we watched light and darkness battle with serenity and grace
between pitch-black and lightning-white.

it's uncomfortably warm, my feet are uncomfortably frozen
dancing in the flooding parking lot
in freezing july rain,
concrete becoming liquid beneath me.

his hot breath gives me goosebumps
as we dance, taking in nature's wild serenity,
in an instant the heat of july is nullified.

the lonely star is signaling,
crying, calling out in the darkness.
we can see him so close to his brothers and sisters,
but he cannot see them.

is he blind? we ask;
we can hear him calling out,
see him twinkling frantically.

but what we cannot see
is the truth of it -- his loved ones
have gone out, a flickering flame,
exploded into silence.

my poor beloved burning star
is scared of the expanding darkness;
left with nought but his sister's clouded blanket.

it is filled with amber,
with liquid gold;
a broken man is taking a swig.

it is everything he has lost,
will lose,
what he has lost everything to.

the gold is his,
encased in glass,
but he feels no richer.

eyes sparkling,
a smile that can
outshine the sun.

so far oblivious
to the pains and
wars and terrors
that plague the
world.

so innocent,
full of promise.

if innocence could
be kept, the world
could be changed.

if only
we
could
stay
young
always.