the cricket sound of hot-love dusk,
the silently fluttering madness of moonlight,
it hides under her eyelids as she
presses her sweet lips to the night;

you tremble beneath the weight of her molten stare,
your teeth piercing the solemn reverence of her ashen heart --

oh, god, touch her
hands cold like ghosts
in your arms like a guitar, her
soul bleeds onto your naked chest
warm
breath
slow
breathe, oh Dawn, look,
your hot-love is fire;

two die
and one becomes

lay my tired body down
        into a coffin of empty verses
        built on broken winter promises
        and forgotten eyelash wishes


and fall my dreams like snow
        into the shadow of a bed,
        cold and dead, silently sleeping,
        weeping under the weight of the day


then walk my soul into the beautiful night,
        a silhouette of yesterday and the
        hazy oasis mirage of tomorrow,
        deep and dark like my grave

like the black fog that suffocated us that morning
carving a deep depression into your chest,
like the scar that's left behind by your smile and
the wet aching silence of your fear,
like broken ice on a bleeding wound and look
at you
look at you
lookatyou with your
love like daggers,
eyes like death
  
then like the hot acid touch of anger,
your miserable face sour bile in my head,
like my voice too loud in the slaughterhouse of your heart,
like the sick stench of rotting flesh, the corpse
of a poison promise made beneath bedsheets and look
at me
look at me
lookatme with my  
love like daggers,
eyes like ******"

what a radiant soul she is,
do you hear her sing?
  
She is slender, strong
and comes alive beneath your fingertips;
you lean into her
and she notices it,
she notices you.
  
the sound grows larger in her throat
so she swallows it,
crawling burning cold hot to her heart
and she feels it,
she feels you.
  
the pain sets her on fire like a star,
she screams your name, she screams into the dark;
your stare is silent, biting back the words
but she knows them,
she knows you.
  
what a lonely soul she is,
do you hear her sing?

I want to become the wind
I want to rush through you
kissing the corners of your eyes and tugging your hair
disappearing without a word

I want to become the strike of nine
I want to cry out for you
singing mournfully into the ignorant night
laying my hands on the heads of the weary

I want to become the wind
I want to move you
pushing you forward until your steps become easy
then I'll disappear without a word

everything about you is soft and radiant
like your smile, your silhouetted countenance;
the bright snake green that bites me from below
swallows the words that blossomed in my throat
  
if only i could give you rest,
a resolute peace that undulates through you
as my lips map the feelings i cannot impart
in haphazard lines over your bare beating heart
  
and as i walk alone you linger in my mouth
a deep red flavor, a taste of rust
and ribbons of warmth, a sweet moonlight gold
which let the colors of a gentle love unfold