Amidst the scarlet haze of twilight hours,
and salacious seconds that twist the time
With tantalising thoughts, and titillating rhyme  
A seductress’ muse, provocative, alluring,
Do I dare to ask for more?
For I fear that my heart has dropped
To lie between my legs.

The spaces that lie in between ***,
Heavy like the ghost between us
Haunting the skin of deliquesced nights,
And the noon of thought.
We awaken in serried falls,
The veil of dusk melting in between my thighs,
And the sin of your tapered thoughts,
Hastening the arrival of starry white lies,
And night’s black spell of seclusion.
Bring your husked limbs toward me,
And seep into my bones under the shadows.  
Turn off the lights in me
In the dead of night
And the noon of thought.

An eclipsed silence leaks in between ***,
Unexchanged like the words between us.

I notice that flies circle my movement,
They rest on my hands, my arms, the extensions of my legs
They swarm around the cavities of my chest
Where my lungs lay blackened, and my sickened heart beats slackened
And the occasional fly lies on the flesh that
Surrounds my ladened heart
I wonder whether they realise that my soul
Has decayed, that my heart chips down each day
And breaks, festering beneath the weight of my sins
I wonder whether they sense that I am rotting within
That I am a corpse standing still
Awaiting judgment

I search for you, in all the patterns of the skies
In all the single ways the sun melts within the
Ashes of the night,
The way your hair would melt into your eyes, and the way you’d
Push it back
The way your laughter carried through the canopies
Of your chest, the place where i buried my home, and the way you’d
Push me back.
And my thoughts seeped between the crevices
Of your ribs, and yet you still felt so empty.
My thoughts are now left with me.
And the violet hues cut through the sky,
And the lines I write cut through me.

Why is it that I have never written a poem
For you
For your beauty, your intellect, your smile,
The way you dance within the sunlight,
Your hair breaking from raven to honey to the
auburn hues of an autumn moon, and melting
As you twirl each strand within your hands,
each lock glistening like the northern lights.
Why have I failed to capture your eyes
into words, for they behave as prisms would,
Separating each nuance of sadness into the simple
Joys of life and light
And softly spoken
desires.

Why have I never written love sonnets for the girl who
Sits in the corner, smudged ink and coffee stains
Coding the language of her books, as she
Writes love sonnets
for every boy
who
decimates
her self worth.

Why is it that I have failed to love myself