I can tell you that touching you makes me shiver.
It's like sometimes when I try to speak
I choke on the words as if an ocean I keep
in my throat- an abode for the Poseidon in your midst.

Stay with me like cataclysm with a sinner,
lie to me; I'm made of cardboard and tape,
I can take it.

Your soft tsunamis of tongue,
a voice like thunderclaps,
you could make Zeus blush-
a blinding fire shut behind his eyelids,
and an earthquake in every touch.

They tell stories and call you apocalyptic,
but to me you're just the hiss of the snake keeping
guard to what he thinks
he should be protecting.

You become a handsome ruin
in the hands of the glass God; an imprint
of your presence on the coffee table
makes more hurt than the sound of you
almost putting your key in the door-
the dangling of keys, the pins shifting
like sands; I'm burning so bright now,
I think I'll turn these sands of time to glass.
You kissed me with such shards of love,
the blood in the mouth is the only memory of you left.