I do not think that I am safe because I love you. You are breathtaking in the sort of way you just never get used to. The pulsing of your ichor heart is unhesitating, relentless. You are all red popsicles melting in the heavy June sun. Letting you rough me up a little bit. I love you like a boxing match I won't win. Fog so thick you can hardly see the ground. Green on green on green, and kissing with your eyes closed. One emerald eye and the other gold. Smuggling hyacinth into my spine. We're going soft in the elbows for having all the space in the world. Your gentle palms, your bruised knuckles, kissing me halfway out the window. In the low light. With the wind chimes. You, sliding your ****** hands into my overcoat, hurrying your mouth into mine.