I wish I wouldve written your words in Braille so I could feel your voice on my fingertips

When the next boy asks:

"What kind of music do you like?"

I'll tell him
about the rhythm of your breathing

And the baritone of your heartbeat

you could say,
are long dirt roads that never end
trotted on by horses
(you can call them men)

Women

you could say,
are cobble stone streets
constantly impaled by stilettoed friends
(you could call them men)

Women

you could say,
are black tar roads
riddled with curves and bends
plowed on by Subarus
(otherwise known as men)

Women

you could say,
are nice footpaths in the park
run on by children
around the age of ten
(often boys that grow up to be men)

sometimes we forget that the Sun is a star too

like how i forget that my world doesn't revolve around You

or that if the Ocean was red, the Sky wouldn't be blue

and even though i knew me, before i knew you,

if you left right now, i'd have no clue

Well there's the new satisfaction of
feeling
nothing

New rites of passage only attained
through
cutting

There's that new longing, for ringing in an empty
head

That new desperation for devils that leave you
more than
emotionally
dead

I should really stop taking your body as my communion
but oh God
do I remember Jesus every time.

Had we but world enough, and time,
I would spend eternity,
with your lips pressed against mine.