I want to choke on your love.
I want you to strangle me,
Drown me,
Stab me,
Beat me,
With your heart.
I want you to chop me into thin little lines
and snort me for the rest of your life.
I want your love to **** me.
So that mine, doesn't **** you.

When someone suddenly is striped of their angel wings.
When he becomes just another boy with blonde hair and blue eyes.
Just another boy with thin lips.
Just another boy I can forget.

He breathes deeply.
Chest rising to its fullest potential.
Pushing his heat onto my skin.
His sweat merges with mine, creating a barrier between us.
We are hungry to consume one another.
To be so full of each other that we split at the seams
And slip into the space between the mattress and the wall.
I want the smell of his neck to be carved into my memory.
That patch of flesh just below his right ear,
I can feel the veins pumping. Pumping.
He is a solid mass.
A mountain.
I want him to crush me till I am only air.
Till I can breathe again.
But I only want to breathe him in.
I want to eat him.
Wrap my teeth around his collar bones, ear lobes, pinky fingers.
When the sunlight crashes into the room, we call a truce.
His eyes close.
His breathing slows.
Preparing for the battle ahead.
Eventually, I close my eyes as well.

When you look out a window and only see your own eyes staring back, it is time for bed.
The sheep outside call to one another.
One is telling his mother that he plans to spend the night out, with his friends.
        "Don't wait up." He tells her.
She shakes her head and closes her eyes.

In the morning I will look out the window.
To see blobs of white moving about the field.
         "Good morning." Says the mother sheep.

Is he my lover if we never properly made love?
Because I felt love.
With smooth chests pressed as closely as physically possible.
When his hands trickled over my ribs.
I said, "Don't touch my legs, they are spiky."
He said, "I don't care."
I felt it when I stood on my tiptoes, hungry for one last nibble of his upper lip.
His thin, upper lip.
I miss that upper lip.
A lover, yes, that is what he was.

This is okay, it is okay to let yourself be mushed up by his skinny fingers. His hands are warm and will protect you from his icy breath, his icy eyes. You can tell yourself that the feeling of shock that jolts you after he pulls his lips off of yours is not needed. His top lip is growing with your kisses and nibbles, it is plump from your ****** lips leaking onto it. The freckles on his cheeks and nose are getting darker each time your cheek slides against them. He has a face marked with you, soft heart and that is okay. Months from now, you will have to leave him. By then he will be even more beautiful, you will have perfected him. You will go to a new city with his bite marks on your heart. It will be okay because he taught you to keep your heart soft for the next bite to come. It is okay heart, it is time to wrap your lips around his and let your whole self tingle with delight. He is worth it, you are worth it and this will all be okay.

With petals made of milk drops, an appearance of harmlessness is formed.
When you crane your neck in her direction and her soft smell lingers under your nose you begin to realize that the world has changed. Milk has clouded your eyelids and softened your perception of reality.
Suddenly, you feel the need to reach out and touch one of her milk drop petals, if only for a second. You decided that a small green leaf near the flower is close enough. You do not wish to damage her.
Your fingers slowly slither their way towards her and before you realize it you are upon her velvet leaf.
A sharp pain has blossomed in your fingertip and you abruptly pull your hand away and look at the flower. Spikes have protruded from her entire being and on top of one is a small droplet of your blood.
You look at your hand, but only a small kiss mark remains where the spike has drawn your blood.