with every brush, every stroke of my hands
against your warm skin,
I write love letters on your flesh;
I hope my words seep into
your pores and your follicles
so that you never forget
all of the ways
I love you.

he is the hunter
and I, the willing prey.
hands wrapping slowly around my throat,
a smile blooms across my face.

1,116 miles separates your flesh from mine
but i still feel your warmth
in the palms of my hands
in the pit of my stomach
in the space between my legs.
cold nights remind me of the space between us
but i've never felt so close to someone.
i swear if i'm lucky
i dream of you,
like a ghost,
crawling in through my window
into my sheets -
lips crawling across my jaw and
fingers crawling up my thighs.

dark and brooding;
you menace, you.
gaunt and godly,
your dark eyes, like bits of night sky,
scan over my skin,
my imperfect features.
I want to examine you through telescopes
like constellations.
I want to plant red poppies along your spine,
your collarbones.
I want to unravel your tangles,
illuminate your insides.
I want you,
under a microscope,
early in the morning,
on a silver platter,
you.

petal lips
causing insatiable lust,
breaking down walls but
building up trust.
a connection stalled,
better late than never;
when I say that I want you,
I mean it forever.

"at least we have each other"
are my favorite words you've said,
even over distance,
even in different beds.
I don't know where we're going
and I don't know what we'll be,
but whatever happens to happen,
you're someone that I'll keep.

we're scratching the surface, baby,
diving in deep,
no matter how foolish or blind it may be.
your walls are falling down so quickly,
but why?
it's unlike you.
I like to imagine that it's because I
came into your life like an earthquake;
laying dormant for so long, warming up,
then striking at the perfect time.
sometimes ruins are a good thing, baby.
you were a vacant home, rotting from the inside.
when your walls came crashing down,
the opportunity to rebuild arose.
I'll be the carpenter, baby.
I'll build you up, working daily.
when you're bold and big and beautiful
like you once were long ago before the floods came,
before the neglect and tarnish,
I'll unload your baggage, bringing it to light.
I'll make your pain, your struggles,
into beautiful furnishings, accenting you,
building character, adding to your uniqueness.
and, baby, when I'm done,
I'll inhabit you and care for you.
you'll be my refuge, my home, mine,
no matter how far i venture.
I'll always come back to your warmth
and your protection
once again.