bartering
as if our bodies were the key to the others' salvation.

we are not temples.

we are shrines
to those that lace love songs
into suicide notes.

we'll die singing

always a night time lover
i have grown accustomed to unwashed sheets
and trusting what i can't see

but we ****** when the sun came up
(thank you)
and you kissed me with the lights on
(thank you)

and I could see you...