du smager af våde blade fra grønne træer,
og dine øjne skinner som din mors ældste smykke
blomster klæder dit hår
og når du siger mit navn, gror der universer omkring mine ribben
du sagde sætninger, man kun hører på film
"det regner oftest i takt med tunge tårer"
flød ud af din mund på lange mandage,
og da jeg kom hjem navngav jeg min nyeste digtsamling det samme
jeg tænker på dig, når jeg ser på himlen, og når den en dag forsvinder, gør du måske også

to lukkede øjne
mødes i nattens mørke lys
blanke silhuetter danser
sanser efter duften af hjem
et helt fremmed sted

you smell like blue flowers and taste like gasoline
we went to your dad's funeral and you told me
that you never knew him the way you know me
my heart is made of wet batteries, and the way you
look at me when i cry
oh, lord, we could have built cities in france
and we could have painted paintings in florida
my doctor doesn't get me and my mother doesn't want to
"pink pills will take away the pain" they all say
but why don't they know
that if the pain is gone,  
so am i

yellow bikinis
swimming
under luminous lights in
Spain,
you tasted of saline
and
pink strawberries,
i painted conspiracy theories
on your wet back
using my tongue,
you told me
i reminded you
of
purple flowers in a garden in France,
when i said your name
i sat my lips on fire and
black salt killed
my skin
i know you remember
how the air felt around your
ankles when
i whispered
i don’t know you and
i don't want to

i chew words like “i’m good” until they taste of
bright mercury, i eat pills and see purple flashes
morph into your tongue, when i'm in the supermarket
i watch pale boys buy watermelon and detergent,
the sky cracks like eggs on a sunday morning and
heaven is crying with tears that smells of perfume
i watch girls with beautiful palms and salmon pink
lipstick whispering a name that will burn of acid rain,

i used to write novels about your prominent veins,
the sun is getting weak, and my hands are shaking,
my eyes are screaming, my tongue
feels tough, my skin is crying on naked bones in
the dead body of mine, i am covered in scars carved
into my soul, i swim in the lake until i feel the
salt  searing against my liver, i have green
lungs, grey bones, pastel eyes, blue wrists, no heart;

i find queens in the shadow of a beautiful man and
i never read the magazines but i look at the photos
i know that god is  somewhere between my shoulder blades
but i can't turn my head enough  to look into his eyes

your eyelashes
quakes
against my cheek,
your eyes whispering
stories
to my bones
i want open balconies
and luminous city skies
i want black sunrises
and wet hair
heavy of plants and dew


there is champagne in my heart
when you touch me
there's **** growing inside of my chest
when you leave me
in the winter night
the moon will never stop bleeding
velvet
is this what love feels like?
deep breaths and cold hands?

lyset reflekterer i unge pigehjerter
med naive sind,
der leger med smagen af grå røg
i nattens smalle gader
den ældre (u)ægtemand
vender hjem til en fortabt stilhed
og drengen med de krystalblå øjne
smiler nervøst på en kold trappesten
mens kvinden med kashmirtørklædet
maler en streg i månens skær
og gemmer sandheden væk
i en lille guldæske, *** ikke lukker op