He (is sullen and shaking
and sunken-in so
that he somehow seems shrunken
despite that he's grown,
but he) carries me dutifully
home through a storm
and my shirt may be soaked,
but my feet are still warm.

He trudges (begrudgingly)
over the curbs.
(I cry out for help but
I mince my own words.
I'm hurting him, heavy;
but) his arms seem steady,
intent and so ready
to hold me(,
I hope true, to the words
that he's told me).

(Please,) "Don't put me down
(let me down) just yet."
"Turn your key in the door
and forget about this."
(So I lie through my teeth)
"Thanks for bringing me home,"
(sooner you'd left me then
than leave now and alone).

I find you between the lines,
when the sky is mercury
and the world slows to a halt.

in these moments
       (listen--the ocean is silent)
we whisper, crashing

in and out of starry tenderness,
hurricane youth. and
I find you between the lines

where our bodies fade into one another,
where hand meets hand meets
earth: there is something about

windy mornings, tacit eternities
and the way your fingers
             find escape in my hair.

escape with me, starry-eyed
a smoky shadowland
where sin is infinite
hell warmly embraced
and lust a syrupy *****.

desire is so crookedly pristine
when untouched by
the ugly delusion you call love

luring, seducing
the inky ebony of eve
coaxes us sweetly, chillingly
to join its empty prisoners --

passion aches
inject me with your raven smoke;
crave me,
consume me

come and dip with me in the night
where our veiled vices can find relief;
its venom will feed my impure nocturne
and your wicked clutches can snake into
the perverse piths of my phantasm and person.

i.

those velvet hands curled around my glass throat
but i laughed at the pretty little splinters
that would pierce your delicate fingers
while my fractured shards scattered
across your marble floor
sparkling
shattered -- fragmented --
broken

ii.

my ashen core melted into your blazing sorry
and crept up into the narrow
crevices of your collarbone -- an exodus
for this bloodless being
and this cold coffee has never before tasted
so empty
so tired
so gone
so much like

iii.

this galaxy -- you should try it, maybe
i escape instantly into
an astral tenderness and silly little
constellations like the ones you used to trace
on my starlit waist while we smiled about
nothing & everything & skin
                                       & skin
                                       & skin

but does the serpentine smoke that escapes your lips
still entangle and curl around unspoken words
that dance and linger on your tongue
like my hungry kisses used to?