there is sincerity in the distance between us. i think i owe you an apology. you keep me at arms length only because i asked you to, yet all i want is to bathe in your presence like i owe you something. to follow the lines of your lips with words unspoken. "death to a saint," you will tell me, "this is not you." i will kiss away your remaining sanctity, like light kisses away dark depths of forgotten i miss you's and the sound of your pleas — they sound a lot like "tell me something good to get me by."

i am your liberator so pay attention. for freeing you has never felt so good. i kiss the line of lies away from the corners of your mouth and smudge sweet nothings into your lips with mine and now i do not know if i am more a savior or if i slept the title away into your arms because now all i know is the way your drowsy sighs feel like i am coming home.

they told you blue wasn't your color
i've never seen you wear blue
on your worst days you bear a striking resemblance to lightning but even then the color they describe pales in comparison
a light spectrum senses depravity next to you
the word "sadness" falls nowhere near your line of vocabulary
and if i could promise you one thing
it would be that blue would look so good on you
if you ever gave it a second glance