On my windowsill,
of that indigo night
you took me,
and I haven't
been the same since.

Something about you
makes me want to
be a better man.
I've grown wings,
so I take to the sky.

Your love is a kaleidoscope
and my head is getting dizzy
my eyes begin to water
drowning in the swirling of
emotions,
yours and mine
in a big mess of blood,
turquoise, needles,
shards of hope and pain
all intertwining
to create the vision of some
beautiful, fragile thing,
a shake of the hand away
from being broken.

You are a beautiful, tragic thing,
made to be broken, made to feel weak,
your skin like pergament,
time settling under your nails like dust
on a photograph.