This room smells like burning wood
I hope the fire brings her home
I hope warmth will creep into my skin
I need my woman like wool in the winter

We’re beating through the snow
and the skin we have sinks colder when apart

I want to burn to ashes under her

Been thinking bout love
Thinkin' bout the way it's soft and warm

She's a calm and holy thing, my love
She's a kiss rich like indigo
and my one hand praying behind my back

I thought we knew
Thought we both know I'm a little wild,
little bit of a tidal wave inside
I think we both know she's up in a cloud somewhere,
think we both know she's Aphrodite

The unspoken is the holy sometimes
and the humanity is a bedsheets love
Real people love in real skin
its playful
its present moments

Sometimes the present is forever
Sometimes fantasies never come
Still always predicting and,
doubting the usually right
We never wanted to be right

I have sand under both of my *******
and blood under each of my nails
Your song breaks us together
your love shakes me home

the premise of a perfect garden is a lie
you cannot break something
order something
meant to be wild
something that still
so intensely
has it’s own free will
it’s own direction toward the sun
but you can marry it in it’s perfect home
with it’s perfect companion

I’m in the strawberry’s secret seeds
hiding from blue in the red
before my pink becomes entirely grey
and muted
and suddenly everything stopped
and the lights went dark
no, the sun went down
but I’m still hiding while the others
crawl out of their caves
to sing praises to our moon
and kiss each other in whole holy love

well what if I see her and she pulls me under?
I wanted to stay golden with another
cause (my one) she’s all heavy and precious inside
but this other girl is enchanting
I wanna choke on her somehow
wanna find where that labyrinth in her lips goes
and I know it ain’t righteous
but i’d sin before a goddess Herself
and fall willing into black water
for a taste of her while living

I wore black and rested in poetry
I was lonely without her but her nape
and her name as Grace
spoke to me heavy
like the silence of our big valley in its misty grandness

I wore black in mourning
of myself and a facade
and in mornings of our love
she kept me small and shrunken as I was
in that tattered linen
I loved her nonetheless

I’m wearing black in practice
and I will continue to betray
my softness
until she finds me underneath
our marriage bed