snowflakes like fingertips

the deep crimson stain
of desperation on my lips

your eyes hold safety

and i
with the ringing syllables
with the easy smirks
and the way my hands
hold change

i've carved you into my sallow skin
saying thank you with each notch
saying yes

it's when my fingers slip
the fragile bricks packed through with mortar
lose their hold

i really hope
you have a good birthday