glitter touch my cheeks,
glitter spiders make webs of my veins.
i turn streetlights upside down
and drink up the neon —
i want my belly to spark and sweat
and glow.
i love you when you're the moon
and less when you're the sun —
i can only stare so
when you have darkness
we can't share with them.

a body is a temple, a body is a church,
a body is leather, black,
is curling fingers into sand,
is a bra tossed across the headboard,
as a lace crucifix.
a body is chewed gum sitting like a pebble
under the roof of my mouth;
is worthless when not in a bed,
when not trying to inhale another one
as crumbs.