lines that i cant write into poems
by luckybones
bloodied hands rub walls of confessionals like a cheap imitation of the most beautiful stained glass
theres beauty in the way you whisper my name followed by the words not good enough
your body is colored in someone else's fingerprints and i've been burning my hands to shape mine in just that way
kiss my lips until they crack like the sidewalks of the city that we used to dance in
bare feet on dashboards, cigarettes in your mouth, and hands around my neck: a list of things that make the most sense
a sunset reflecting off a mirrored building, eyes watered down until dark blue is nothing but the color of blue jeans
thunderstorm veins and lighting in my skin as my jaw becomes a platform for your kiss
your eyes are pools of holy water, but my lungs are full and I've been drowning for quite a long time now