I can touch your skin without crying
and wanting to tear away my own
That hasn't happened in too many years
or maybe not enough
I don't know if it's early or late
but you don't care
so nothing has to change
We can watch American Horror Story
even though we are living one
And I can hold onto you with teeth and nails
because this darkness is vicious and wants you gone
I can watch your back shift as you pull off that burnout
Your demons slide along your bones under pale skin
And then you toss the shirt over your head
and they slip back into your grooves
Eyelashes are smearing tears in the cup of your shoulder
under the careful watch of your black eyes
Our hearts are black too
but not in the way everyone thinks
But it doesn't matter, sweetheart
You wouldn't care if I had a red heart or a blue one
Because it wouldn't make a difference, baby

But there's God in you
And in  your son, Michael
and  baby Claire
God's in the curves of your face
as you swallow an idea from open air
God's in the taste on your tongue, as you chew
and it spills out of your fingers
over white paper
cut in blue stripes
God's in your skin too
where your blood cuts blue stripes too
and sometimes the stripes turn red and raw
God's in the way you look at me
and that's not a science at all

Black gravel and slime
soaked
in sallow streetlight
Rap music wedges through
the crack in a broken hinge
The dishwasher in the kitchen
swears
and drops a hot pan
A rich man in a rich car
cruises by, smothering my darkness
in headlights
highlighting the grime
on the toes of my Chucks
My break is up
But I will just
stay here,
toss my cigarette stub
in the greasy pepper can
and have
another
smoke