He says your name for the first time
and you think you've fallen in love with his mouth.
You realize he's got you wrapped around his pinky like a promise
and it sounds like his lips invented your name,
like no one had ever said it before he did.
It's all too ******* cliche
but you think his mouth is made of heaven,
his fingertips derived from the same stars
that you've tried too many times to catch
but ended up burning your own palms with instead.
He looks at you like you carved the sky with your own hands
and you laugh because you think he fell down from it.
You would think he was a fallen angel
if he wasn't so **** pure,
if you thought there was any way
that God would ever banish him from his side.
God would be lucky to have him by his side.
These days all you've been thinking about is his smile
and how you've always been afraid of ghosts
but you don't mind that he haunts you
like a lost ghost who can't find his home.
You only hope he can call you his home.
You like the way your hands feel numb
when you think of him
and you think your legs might collapse beneath you
but you don't mind.
Even if he doesn't catch you when you fall,
you don't mind.