you could blend my blood
with the edge of your
lips
& watch our unspoken words
go to battle for a
sip

its the push and the pull
you could swear
I was full
but I haven't danced nearly
enough in such a
reckoning
mood
& my frail fingers have
yet to trace my
absence of
food

just as I'll never know
yours
you'll not ever grasp
the war within
my head
& above all else I shall
always ache for
your bed

no matter of the
weather
I could promise I'll get
better



but darling
some things are far
better
left unsaid