Your face is full as the moon
unerring the tides of rapacious hunger
A single grain in the roiling sea I want to sink beneath your upending beauty
On a cursive line I will beg for your love as a pauper
joined by the felictious letters that have taken haven in your grasp
you’re the triumphant breeze that catches the archway
the gentle curves of your body flaring to be undressed by the weathered sun
I miss the passing salt mired in your skin

To walk the cobblestoned streets is to be without your grace
and to breathe the color of air that kisses your sadness
is a fated rose meant to be held.
I like you to be still, as the night that brings the solitude of katydids
a rasping song as to not forget the calm of your voice that was.
Let me be within your steps so we can never part
in shadowing the course that brings you closer to the softened murmur of my lips.

Is your grief as sullen to be pitched into the dark where mourners lay their thoughts
the warmth of a cup of black coffee drawn from a heedful call that stands to reason with your voice
and the day turns away in a callous hunger desiring to be measured in spiteful calories
your lipstick has stained your teeth in vainglory
will you run from the hunt or has the open switchblade knife followed your wrist to the faintest lines
has his forceful blows moved you to tears and he knows how not to love you in centimeters
in the rose gold of your naked body I have surfaced
to find the rounded edges that make you complete

Loneliness is
the salve of an eager knife diving into your flesh
A repentant parishioner lost in the rose windows of a solemn cathedral
And here I stand in your sacred light
It’s the dance of ice needles sculpting a barren landscape
The wildness of a red fox captured in a leg lock trap
Twisting, turning against the cold steel jaws
Gnawing at its broken limb to be free
A howl of pain the wind lashing in its cruelty

The earthen gray
the ash of your mouth
that has made the soil fertile
a garden grows of wanton desire
I will walk between the edge of your lips
taking a step for every man who has passed not in sight
of the burning in the quietest corners where I love you
And I will return my hands with pride to till the fields
that has coloured your hair
that has softened your face
and I will turn my hands
to kiss you when the spring comes with her angry storms
and I will pocket the stone that holds you to me
heavy to my heart

Did you catch the ethereal light of a passing torch
like the repetitive whistling of a Northern Cardinal cupped in your hands
red in its infumation drawn away from the heat of a woodland fall
Let’s run away from Leeds as far as the sun casts your shadow
everyone’s thoughts are passing over our heads
have you found your voice in the hallway choir?

Crush the broken glass in your hand
fractures masticate through sinew and seams of tissue
nerves struggle to bear witness to your purloined tenderness
your jagged flesh an open wound brilliant in its escape from meaningful virtue
an inviolate rose nodding in the wind
would you bleed just to feel a little bit loved?
under the surface of your silver skin can I be important enough
to sit beside you along the wild rivers free of solitude