you are so much more than
what your body confines you to be,
break the ribs,
crack, snap, fracture,
the words he formed as bones.
fly.

he leans towards sunlight
and casts shadows on
tempestuous spectators,
critics of the light,
lovers of the dark.
he sinks moonlight
into, unto, onto skin,
his hands,
la luna's voice,
breathe me,
echo me,
shine.

I'm a tongue of emerald
piercing the moon shadowed
skin of your paper neck,
paralysed, paralysed, paralysed,
painted red and almost immortal.
Oh darling, you are all mine,
from your saxophone kisses,
to every leaf you octoberly
watched fall.

you caught my broken glass
and treated it like diamond.

refract every ray of light I ever threw at you
until I'm merely a broken lightbulb
in the darkened corner of you

I went anywhere you pointed,
reached out like a baby
and crumbled at your fingertips.
you were my broken compass,
perpetuated and disorientated
by the profound magnetism
of two lost hearts,
stuck in the eye of an undying hue.
you called me the tempest
under bed covers
a tsunami waiting to happen,
treated me as the torn map
your mother told you to be
gentle with.

tell them how I felt like a car crash,
be broken glassed, be splintered,
whisper how you trod on my intention
and felt your metatarsals scream my name,
be tibia, be fibula, be fracture, be cast,
be recovery and deterioration,
remission and the carcinogenic,
**** me, **** me, **** me,
until my initials rot
in your bone marrow.

walking the indistinguishable
tightroped limitations of you mind,
balancing completeness
and the incompleteness
you told me was ok,
between the cracks in our hearts
until the foot slips,
the dawn breaks
and I
fall.