i have always been awfully fond of the word
"lover" .
some kind of celestial existence of a being beyond stars, written in romantic breath, written as if life was hanging by a thread - which usually it is when the word is in usage.
i've always been fond of the word "lover" and its timidity of sound and its depth of speech.
"lover" runs through my veins as to mimic healing but it can just as easily be a tattoo drawn out with teeth gritting for some dream for which I will never be waking.
"lover" is the aching nightly summer skyline and the tenacious brightness of snow under a flash,
"lover" is pain seeping into hip bones as I raise them for your heavenly tongue, it is your silvery back arching in the moonlight ever so graciously.
"lover" is your spine, a sliver of lightning written in my palms and your lips - a lover's prayer aligned, a bending of holy knees for some god forgotten.
"lover" is iris, morgana and nyx all misting overhead as we kiss away time unforgiving.
mountainous ridge of a scar burning under touch means that "lover" has arrived to see-
these wild eyes of mine mar all mundane beauty.
my fondness for the word "lover" is timeless  for it is my grave beaten on this earthly entity, for it is thirst unquenchable and hunger insatiable of the hands to graze, of the heart to phase.
my lover, lunar and stelar blood of my dreams i bow to thee.