The little y that marks the spot
Behind the white sweet spot that
Holds the truth behind your smile;
Lies upon the sugar laced shoulders
That are wrapped in your perfect skin
Underneath those dark clothes
That you and I love so much
and your black fingernails
That left the deepest scars
Down the left and right sides of my spine

The sweet caress of your modest *******
Is the feeling that I love best,
When your chest is against mine
In the middle of the night.
My love.
Oh dark one. . .

I caught the smile of a dead girl
On your right side, the brightest side
If you even believe that for a second
Before your eyes caught mine
There were no alarms
But now I can see them, your eyes
and I can still feel your smile
Every ******* night that I try and forget
But your precious ghost hides inside of it.

Can you walk with me awhile?
Spend the night a least a hundred miles
Outside of the usual styles that you are used to.
I have been used too.
Put on display like the ******* last page
That I will never write again.

I swear.

You will see a new beauty behind these trees
and a cool openness of these arms to please
Your closed senses and to plant new kisses
On the sweet cherry lips
Of your holy face.