Tell me I’m the moon,
Baby,
That I pull you in
That I’m only reflective
Of that shown upon me
That nothing warm
Will stay

Tell me, baby,
That you’re the stars
A vast, luminous galaxy
That your black satin backdrop
Won’t swallow me blind
And spit me out
Grey

Paint me a picture
Of your skin
Does it bronze beneath the sun?
Or sizzle and blush
Like your cheeks
When you’re in love?
Is it soft to the touch
Like when your palms graze
The smooth surface of water?
Or rough around the edges
Like your favorite book
And its lovingly worn corners?
Does it melt in the heat
Like sweet syrupy treats
Dripping through your fingers?
Or does it welcome the winter
With wide open arms
As if greeting a lover?
Paint me a picture
Of your skin

Sweet, sweet boy
You must know love
To be so good
But goodness rests in your hands 
And its nemesis 
In your eyes
Pleading to me
To get down on my knees
And beg for your time
To kiss each finger
As it grazes mine
Trailing down my neck
Shivers down my spine
Pour your soul through my lips
Wring your saccharine 
From my hair
With your fist
Sweet, sweet boy

That's the thing about insatiability
It can't be compartmentalized
It doesn't have an appointment
Or even a purpose, really
It is a persistent, unwelcome fog
That creeps into your skull
Until it smooths over every surface
And dampens every thought beneath it
And though some days
The fog may dissipate
Nothing is ever good enough
Not for long, anyway

Forgive me; the wine
It melts into my veins
Sends notes of cherries
And chagrin
To my fingers and toes
And don’t get me started
On this whirling head of mine
It seems to be drowning
In something sweet
Something red
But I swear I’m fine

Every day
For the last three years
I wake up
And I hate myself

Maybe it’s been five years
Maybe eight
Surely I’ve lost count

Rare are the mornings
My aching muscles breathe a sigh
The sun drips through the window
Drenching me in warmth and life

Such euphoria is fleeting
It comes and goes
In two-week intervals
And I’m forced to watch it fly
To others’ faces
Where it rests much longer

There must be a balance
Dangling in the ether
Desperately waiting
To be discovered

But when dawn breaks
And my hand searches the sheets
It is hate that I find
Once more

I believe in your heart
And the way it makes me feel
As if mine has grown.

I believe in your eyes
And the way they make me feel
As if I'm at home.

We waste expensive lipstick
On cigarette butts
That are thrown out the window
And somehow ignore
That we do the same
With our lovers

Finding beauty in the transition
From fall to winter
Is like trying to find color
In the dead leaves on the ground

Foolish, are we, to believe
That even the brightest sun
Could possibly intimidate
The ubiquitous darkness
That clings to our hearts

I'm fully aware
Of the sadness in your kiss,
But the softness of your lips
Makes it easy to bear.

And yes, I am conscious
That your kind hands are calloused,
But I will always hold them,
I will always be there.

I've probably taken 30 showers
But your scent won't wash away
And the mistakes I've made
Still rest on my shoulders
Pulling my head
Under the water

The cold will always exist
It will always find us
It'll wrap itself around our frame
And squeeze until we're dust
And the agreement we had with fall
Will always break our trust
And like the leaves
We wither away
Lost.

The sun will always rise
Will always reveal
What we've failed to hide
When it is seen
With whiter eyes

At times, I'm jealous
Of innocent lashes
And soft cheekbones
That lure you in,
For I was graced
With no grace at all.
But I was born
With fire in my eyes,
A razor sharp tongue,
And an insatiable hunger
That will not succumb,
And of that,
I am proud.

We are all born alone
Lost souls as we grow
Searching for a purpose
For something steady to hold
So we live out each day
In hopes that someday we'll know
And as soon as I had you
I knew to never let go

I am the liquor
I am what draws the heat
From your core to your limbs
Allowing you to believe
That the chill in your bones
Has finally fled,
Leaving behind an empty stomach
A hollow reminder
That what's killing you
Will never itself
Be dead.

Behind the glass,
The depths of the valley
Seem vast and unyielding.
But from within it,
The shadows of the hills
Are coldly welcoming.
Sunset,
Take me home.

Some days,
The clouds will refuse to part
But you mustn't forget
That the sun is behind them.