i would dip kisses on your freckled back, as though it were an arched door of a baroque cathedral. i would strain my arms cradling the frailty of your sadness. i would weave to my lips your whispers, made of cold and lonely december rust. i would dust my bones and flesh, and i would lie there next to you — a clean slate, in silence and awe and uninhibited longing. my love, we could stay like this for a while.

the streetlights flicker and the sunset blurs. but they know —
my heart has always been yours to break.