He looks at himself a sinner
With horrible thoughts.
He looks at her, an hourglass
Running out of sand.

He wishes to be the twisted sheets
That cover her body as she sleeps.  
Or an unspoken thought
Melting away on her tongue.

He’d walk on burning coals
To be a little closer to her.
Then offer his tender flesh,
His scars and all, to her

He longs to be the stars
That she sees above her at night.
And a sweet grapefruit
With skin her fingernails

Rip apart.