I breathed it into her,
as if words could heal a wound;
"Make me better.
Make me whole.
Fill me with your world."
And words became movements,
and movements became a dance,
and our hearts became the music,
and this music is a trance
of sinful, vile,
shameless, evil,
vicious, mad romance.

Come on, baby.
Tear me in two.

Once upon a distant life,
lived a silken girl of feathery whims,
who loved a rocky, stone-faced man.
She waltzed into his courtyard daily,
and danced for the likes of waxen daisies,
pushing love up 'round his feet.
And by the changing moon
or the wispy wind
he finally let her brightness in
and he took her hand
in a petaled land
and they waltzed until the sun fell in.

.....because love knows no bounds.

Picking up bottle caps off the city sidewalks,
and collecting pretty pennies in a jar.
Rubbing copper faces for luck
instead of simply looking up,
She misses all the billboard love
stapled to the sky above.
Weaving through the concrete streets,
dodging skyscrapers on tiptoe feet,
she's just blowing in the breeze -
sleep, wake up, repeat.
She's a windy thing, herself,
she's an angel raising hell
with the scent of midnight cigarettes.
She's a nightmare in a burning dress.

She's an empty wishing well.

An entire galaxy swims inside of me,
threatening to release stars into my very throat
and up through my trembling lips.
Comets streak across the darkness of my mind,
in frenzied attempt to come into focus.
Gravity lets go of my feet altogether,
and your eyes, like planets, lock into orbit with mine.
A single touch sparks the spinning of our world.

Your hand, to gently life our mouths together.
Your lips like stardust upon my aching soul.
Slight pressure upon my left hip,
as you hold me in place
and lean desire into my bones.
Coming up for air,
fingers raise goosebumps along the nape of my neck
and your fingers tangle themselves into soft, golden hair.
This space is to big for closeness such as this.

So, along the corridor of your nebulous moon,
and sinking into sheets with you,
I give up resisting this ethereal pull.
As the night sky watches us, in envy of our love,
we create endless constellations
of eager, tender lust.

Let's paint the sky with carnal needs.
I need your world inside of me.

And in the moments before she sleeps,
when thoughts begin to feel like dreams,
she often wonders to you.

She's a painter with her words,
but a clown with conversation,
so she stumbles through to give and take,
lost in ill translation.
So what she meant to say,
when she asked you every stupid question,
was she wished you longed to hold her close
with zero hesitation, and...

no ****** connotation.
Just the comfort of your touch.

Will you build a paper town with me?

Not like a landmark on a copywrited map,
but like a haven for our transparent hearts.
We'll make armour out of discarded parts,
and I'll fight gallantly for your love.
We can fold the edges, and bend the lines;
we can race the shadows and chase the time,
sculpting refuge from the bitter cold
of a rigid, solemn, dreamless world.
At night, the moon will guard us,
with a jealous kind of grudge,
grieving when you handle me,
envious of your touch.
The sun will rise to mourn me,
and lay you down in fields of dust,
as we paint the town with every colour
of our infinite, utopian love.

Come to me, my darling,
with your pen and your paper,
so I can show you the true lines of a woman.
Trace my contours and follow my curves,
to all the places that you adore,
until your southern borders rise to meet mine.

Can your hand capture the motions we make?
Like silhouettes of swelling grace?
Abandon your ink, and sink into me,
like the universe crashing inside of the sea.
Rock me like waves, bend me like sin,
whisper your pleasure into my skin.

Come to me, my darling,
come into me.