he is brazen electricity along your veins and
a sputtering drumline in your mind,
he is tongue and teeth, skin and bone
with his lovely notes scrawled on restaurant napkins and
that half-smile on his lips which makes your knees shake;
and he is perfect, he is lovers’ breath, entrapped
and when your hands are cold, your sheets tangled,
smeared makeup beneath the dark circles of your eyes,
you can nearly taste his words on your tongue

you can't ruin me
there will be blood on my hands
but you will not win

these colors don't run, they say
don't tread on me, they say
heritage not hatred, they say
as the blood of our black american children
runs down the drain
and the necks of
muslim men are snapped in the street
and the backs of
hispanic women are broken in the fields
and how can it be "heritage, not hatred"
when the flag of your heritage
is the epitome of hatred?

never fall in love with a boy who
speaks in lavender soliloquy and
smells like cigarettes and melancholy;
whose kisses leave you in nirvana and
whose flesh lays in some lovely façade;
for he is a poet, a philosopher, and a believer
whose mind will disappear into breathless purgatory
when you're not even looking
and by the time you'll find out
you'll already have lost him somewhere,
between wandering verbosity,
and ashen wordlessness

baby, firewalk with me, be divine with me
because your frequency sends me into overdrive
"touch me, baby; love me, baby; **** me, baby"
i'm electric, sparks embedded under my skin
and every circuit in me is looking to overload
i'm charged, i'm humming,
wreck me
corrupt me, **** with my mind, make me question my sanity
(but don't make a ******* sound,
because i'm in control, baby)
lie with me at dusk on a sunday,
while the room loses light like we lose our clothes
gather me into your lap and let me feel you
your skin's so soft and you taste so ******* sweet
fresh nectar of lovers, thirst quenched upon lips
("can you tell how badly i want you?")
("do you want this as badly as i do?")
on my knees, begging you please
like a sinner asking for salvation
give me everything, you own me
(but i'm in control, baby)
i'm burning, i'm sweltering, i'm suffocating
the desire lines are as plain as day
so give it to me, deliver me from sin
devour me with your eyes, eat me up with your stare
you crave me, don't you?
you need me, don't you?
entangle me into a dreamlike haze
touch me, caress me, break me
never let me go, never get off of me
because i can't cleanse my skin of the places you touched,
(the places you kissed, the places you gripped)
but *******, i wouldn't want to even if i could

sitting cross-legged on her bed,
the early morning sunlight brushes its fingertips over her,
embracing her with the heat of the solstice
and pirouettes of cigarette smoke cast soft blue strokes
across her sunburnt, speckled skin

in the moment, she seems comparable to perfectly sculpted marble -
the statue of a grecian goddess, surely, standing steadfast in her beauty -
and i decide that she was sculpted to be admired, even when she cracks
she was made to exude a sense of grace and delicacy by the hands of a man whose muse was his first unrequited love
and to act as an ****** for every man who ever touches her

she has the eyes of an idealist, eyes that are a shaft of light in a beckoning storm
and her spine is a perfect, fragile curve, every vertebrae crafted with purpose
the tips of her hair pooling like corn silk against the small of her back,
with selfish, hedonistic desire, i long to touch her -
to touch her where all the thoughts that have ever danced through her mind unfurl into perfectly molded swathes of skin,
to touch the body of a goddess whose altar is a dimly lit stage, whose place of worship is down a whiskey bottle

and as she sits statuesque - (oh, yes, statuesque, that's the perfect word) -
i watch her shine brighter than anything ever has