Whisper everything you feel like shouting.

Rubbing your eyes like you're five, jaw stretched wide, arms stretched above your head and the lines of muscle beside your hips are peeking through your shirt.
And the sight of you becoming vulnerable in front of me, melts me into a puddle on the carpet of your floor. "That's not all we are." slips through your lips as I lay my leg across you and fit myself into the crook of your body. But you're a boy of firsts, and you're falling asleep while tracing my arm.
And you fell asleep, the beat of your heart quickly thrumming at the screen of your dreams, and I wonder if you're thinking of the first time you kissed me like I am. You'd never know I kissed you about a hundred times while you were dreaming, on your temple, your hair, and the freckle right below your jaw. I knew that it could wake you up, pulling you from your sleep felt wrong, you looked so innocent, the stressed pull of your eyebrows was gone and I wanted to keep it that way.
At 2:34 I kissed you awake, and you slowly woke up, like sand through an hourglass, you lost that innocent look about you, and you became the man who sent my knees to quiver, my heart to race.
And I wanted you to wake up.

Slamming doors so loud the ******* house shakes, I'm screaming your name and the thought of her lips on your neck. When are you going to realize you're mine, and the taint of girls you left behind will always show on your palms when we're arguing? I wonder if you know you're tracing the outline of other boys fingertips when you're tired and my skin feels soothing. ***** to know you've poisoned every part of me that contained another man, but yet, you have other girls perfume in your pores, past perfume and lonely boys.

I once met a boy with shoulders that could hold up the world and a few stars across his shoulderblades. He stood high, swear he belonged to trees, with a stare that made every nerve correspond to make me a personal lightning storm (to get a better idea, I used to jump off branches to feel wings I didn't have and his eyes were the leaves I'd see before I crashed to reality). What was reality without the birds beating against my chest when the expanse of my hand covered the thrumming of his heart. If there was a God? If there was a Plan? He would've made him ready to hold my hand, and he was (I'd like to include that he fit me like tides on shorelines).  
He was entirely made of stardust and sea glass, jaggedly beautiful, someone shattered him along time ago to throw him to my shore, thank god she did, you were too alluring for me not to admire.
I've never been to the ocean, but the way your hands felt on my back felt like the entire world. (To elaborate, he's earthquakes, forests and the way the moon loves the sea).
Somebody asked me to explain the scientific explanation for infinite and I just whispered his name. He was engulfed in my forever, surrounded by words I whispered about futures we were scared of, with plans we'd propose now and promise to mars they'd work.
You see, I'm not artistic, not in the least, I like the elaborate equations of the brain and how your bones never actually fully mend. But I wrote books of words for this man, every color in my paint set couldn't compare to the way his eyes looked under street lamps or when he first wakes up.
That's what scared me, everything in the world can be drawn, written, solved, but someone forgot to finish the riddle for a boy with shaken leaves for eyes, forgive me, for I have been caught in the labyrinth of this boy.
The only way out, is to stay until stars crash around our ankles.
*Tu sei un mondo tutto da solo.

I felt the urge to tell you of stars and questions I wasn't suppose to let roll off my tongue, but you held your breath when I licked the corner of my lips and in those moments when I turn to mist and lightning? I want to ask you if you'd let me save you.
You wouldn't, but I would, you have this way about you that comes off as protective, as if the world wouldn't be able to touch me. Can you feel the gravity when I move in front of you, or the way I pull you closer when you almost run the people over with your wide strides? I'm your protector, and you have no idea.
I'd make sure to keep you safe, keep the only star I've ever held burning with intensity of the static of your lips on mine. You'd gravitate to another star instead of a girl with clumsy hands and ghost wings, which is fine because if she made you see the galaxy in your eyes? I'd love her too.
You wanted me for the rest of my life, but if it came down to it? You're mine, and I will not let you be buried under oak trees to match your eyes, no cold fingers, no goodbyes.
You'd live on, and I? Will finally get my wings.

You're beautiful and you're male, so you don't want to hear that, but it's the only way to describe you. I can't paint you, but you have the seven wonders in your eyes. That's beautiful, isn't it? You're a land of unmarked territory, charted for me to sail. I've explored the planes of your hands, and the expanse of your back, places where you ought to be fragile, seemed made of granite, you were my rock I suppose. You were greens, blues and the shade of red right before the stars peek out, speaking of stars, they branded you as theirs. Stars on your hips, and electricity in your fingertips, whoever made you was trying to make a new world, tripped and slipped the whole universe into a man.
Galaxies in the eyes of man who became allergic to being called beautiful.

Kiss me like the stars are crashing around our ankles, burning their stories on our lips as they spiral down.
Kiss me when I have grass stains on my knees and dirt on my nose, tell me I blend in with the forest and kiss me until I feel it in my toes.
Kiss me as your favorite song bangs out your car windows while we're sitting on your hood.
Kiss me behind your mothers back, hearts beating at the thought of her catching us in the act.
Kiss me when you miss me, and kiss me when you don't.
You have poison on your lips and I can't seem to get enough.