during those bad nights i pray for your soul
then I come to you, light as sea foam,
to kiss your ring and take my throne next to yours.
you, taker of worlds.
me, shining like moonrock

the sickness took a hold of me, slowly
then left me all at once,
frantic in the cherry-red summer heat.
in feigned ignorance i gave you all i had
but never what I knew you needed.

left to choose slow mornings, fast nights
ecstasy and the dropping of our masks,
I chose comfort and soft arms; endless quiet sunsets.
it's funny; you've never been one to pretend,
but still you held my bleeding hand to the light.
still, you bared your tender, golden chest.

this bleeding, thieving hand of mine;  
I take your secrets with me, clinking them over
like stolen seashells from the beach
I scratch out my eyes as not see
the unbearable mess I've made of things,
but it's no use. I still see the fish on a string
and your terrible eyes, at times languid, submerged  
but sweeter still in their shock.

and while all those times i was not yours,
only now do we play a twisted parody of ourselves.
only now i see the bitterest truth of all:
there's nothing divine about this,
we will never see this through.
there's mean and ugly, and then there's us, taking turns.
in my dreams I offer you something that is not mine to give.
and if blows fell true like kisses,
my golden boy, i'd never have to dream again.