the endless fields of larkspur & lily;
the gentle sounds we make when we do not fear
being heard.

in some stolen moment, our backs blinding
against the sun; our mouths
sweetened ripe just like the things
we have not yet made;

a lightness made gossamer wings &
that place where we forget everything
but taking flight.

this whole of the aching sky & more,
the bounds beyond which we dare not or
have not yet touched.

& out of the blue,
ribbons of light,
a forgotten stream of honey, or love
that we have not yet made.

our bodies an offering; a
minute harvest summered &
reaped before we are able to see
what we have done.

from between her teeth
out the whole moon falls; i think
her smile foam-soft

and bright, curved gently
into my own. heart beats and
still in my chest sings

birdsong. nightingale,
choir paused; will i see you
again in daylight?

I think, I say, I loved you before -
yes. Picture it: these different
bodies, tangled under different
sheets, you & these quiet moments
before.

I think it started even before
that - right from the moment
you took breath & sobbed.
Don't you see, baby, you were born
mine.

Picture us in the light:
glory haloed, something other
than blood or water, violent
mouths & all teeth, gnawing
right to the bone.

Let me. I'm going to make this as
terrible as I know how.

I mould & ruin you with
these hands, I call you baby,
darling, mine, mine, mine;
I make you a god and nothing
less.

Show me again, my god - there is no
prayer for the way you shudder. Hold on,
wait for me,

I'm going to make you see stars, baby doll,
you're not going to wanna miss
this.

eating the ****** weapon and
wearing the fur.
i have nothing to say so i ramble,
and think about what i should buy you for christmas
and how ill give it to you without
tripping the wires
you keep around me

I never once kept the door closed,
Despite everything that would make you think otherwise.
My arms tremble at the thought
Of pulling all this weight again.
But I was ready.
The things you do for love
Or what you thought love was.

Nothing says emotional stability like dollar store sleeping pills.
Inertia for a brain
I let it all pile up
Until I'm buried in snow like a cokehead fever dream.

I fell asleep on the high road
Waiting for you to run me over.

he leans in to kiss you. his lips graze yours, a careful brush, so close but not close enough, as the two of you breathe the same air. his breath is warm, his body is warm, everything about him is so warm when you feel so cold. next to him you feel like ice. and his touch melts your cool skin, and you’re melting, melting, gone. you’re kissing him, your chapped lips on fire. your baby is the sun and yes, you know this is going burn eventually. it burns already anyway. but you’d burn into ashes for him. you’d fade for him until there was none of you left.

his gaze leaves nothing of you. you burn until you smolder every time he looks your way. he’s older than you, and it’s almost like he’s lived so many centuries before this one. and he calls you “my love” and “baby boy” and he makes you feel soft even when you’re sweat drenched, even when your skin tastes like the ocean.

you’re on fire, but it’s alright. / there’s pain in this desire, but nothing’s felt more right.

icarus, your baby is a fire.
no.
your baby is a thousand fires.
your baby is a thousand fires,
and each one is so beautiful,
that you don’t mind
how heated
things are getting.

this love is tragic, dear icarus.  and although you know it’s going to **** you, or maybe even because you know it’s going to **** you, you can’t stop loving him, and the heat radiating from his skin.