Thanks to that velveteen tone he
saves for me
And his turpentine diction,
The cliches that made my eyes roll
Now make my heart rush

Nonetheless, my thoughts riot as follows...

(When urged to call him something cheery
something no smile can wane at
like that fleck of gold in his left iris)
Well, "sunshine" should suffice
And Latin for that equals
"Apricitas"
Which phoneticized equals
"Opry cheetahs"
So the obvious endearment here is
Opry

(When urged to call him something pure
perhaps upon watching him blink
or blush
or blow
cigarette ringlets away from babies)
"Snowflake"?
No, that's a slang for ***** these days
So, "raindrop"
Yes
If Latin is dead,
It sure knows how to haunt me
"Gutta imbrium"
Ember
My little ember
The only glow in all this charcoal

(When urged to call him something pretty
when he's brushing his hair
or allowing me to arrange red clovers
in his sideburns)
Hm, let's testdrive "moonlight"
Let's shift into Latin, "luna lumen"
Thus the nickname I bite back is
Lulu

/Lulu/
While I hear darlings and dearies
on the daily
Why must I fail to mirror him?

(When urged to call him something sweet
like the butterscotch kisses he whispers
into my knuckles)
Like a honeycomb
Or as Ceasar would say, "cera mel"
Close enough?
Caramel?
Carousel?
Dizzy, then

We spin
In silence

(When urged to call him something cute
with his cap on sideways
and his head in my lap
and the world at my heels)
Kitten
Catalus
Catapult
Half of that backwards might as well be
Tulip
Two lips
Two tongues
Too much, yet never enough of his
Smoke bomb pomegranate mouth

For heaven's sake, see?
That's why I kiss instead of speak

You went from black to
Sunburnt
It's rust, you say
The moon turned pearl
Then blood
That same day

Dumber than a bag of rocks
on its way to a fountain floor,
we sat like pretzels on a sewer pipe
ignoring coins in lieu of
watching stars, you watched the cars
and swore
I wasn't heartless

And ****
that really took me back

We shut our eyes until they leaked
and the highway was the ocean
oregon's chill, a seaside breeze

We grew wings

And your hair slapped
my cheek
splashing, dripping, laughing
And I couldn't hear a thing
yet it was music all the same

Now, dryer than the barbs in my knees
on the phone, on the run
You swear I'm still not heartless
just that same old stupid ***
And I know
we're finally coming back

He can be my
Sunshine
And I can be his
Icarus
'Cause I'm already his
Lazarus

Every night,
He brings me back
To life

Can I bring him back
This time?

What it feels like to fear
he'll **** his own god
and that's what she is
his name leaving her lips
is gospel.

She doesn't believe in god
but she believes that she would
go to hell if it existed
and there she would have
an iv jammed in her jugular
full of the blood
of the people she killed
coagulating with hers
caught in her circulatory system
like frozen water
in a garden hose.

The veins in his wrist
are green like copper
deceptively dull
hiding the wolf
howling in his pulse.

They were special
they were the snowflake
that caused this avalanche.