If I were to
Write about you
Every night
For one hundred and thirty three
Dark stained
Skies

Would all the stars align
(we can pretend
that we're fatalists
when the moon
reaches our fingertips)
and our eyes
To each others'
Simultaneously?

If I were to write about you
And your eyes and the way
Your smile forms
Would it stay that way
Forever?

If I were to write
Now
And Tomorrow
About the pattern
The sound of your voice
Makes
In my heart
Would I be able to stay alive
Indefinitely
(still)?

And if I were to write about you
Again and again
Until my fingertips
Were laden
And saturated
Black and blue
From bruises
And ink
Would you still
Want to kiss them?