a shot in the arm,
****** then blood.

one flash of burgundy
touches the mud.

grown like a child
from nothing to dust.

black in the arbor;
it's better to rust.

sicker than tired;
darkness can come.

aim for the wicked,
one hand and a thumb

clutches haphazard;
pins on my tongue.

dumping my innards;
sticky and stung,

not for the rectory;
a person undone.

better than death:
purposeless fun.

It wasn't until I caught myself writing poetry about you that I realized it.
You are intoxicating.
You make every hair on the back of my neck stand up.
The thought of you alone gives me goose bumps.

I want to feel you on my lips.
On my neck.
On my thighs.
Every bone in my body aches for your touch.

Maybe it's a warning.
The alarm sounding.
No longer out of order from the last storm.
Trying to tell me that if I let you into every part of me,
Nothing will be left of me when you leave.

Everyone leaves.
They imprint their perfect fingers on every inch of me.
They trace my body with their touch,
And they let their scent give me a high.
Then they walk out that door and never come back.

I don't ever want you to leave.
I need you to hold me together when all I want to do is fall apart.
Keep me afloat when all I want to do is drown.
Kiss me when all I want is to feel alive.
Keep my hands tight around the promises you make when I think there's nothing left to hold on to.