she wanted to paint over the marks on her face to create a blank canvas so their eyes would not drill holes into her pores. but before she could paint, two arms wrapped around her, slowly turning her around. her eyes were downcast as he kissed her every mark. "I love your constellations. Please don't hide them," he gently whispered. she pulled him closer, leaning back onto the counter. the brush fell to the ground as they savored their sweet love.
I don’t want to whisper anymore, nor wish for stolen glances to be my messenger, odd hours and pillow talks on different beds miles away have now become my misery. The faucet of excuses to meet you in person and pet my pinings to sleep has run itself dry. I wish to say it aloud for your heart to hear and the universe to register. I love you. I love you, and I am left with no will, nor patience to not be with you. To be around you is no longer flattering, for in the moon and musk I see distances and measures that pull at the chords of my longing and render me a sweet wailing in its own wake. I want to come home now, make my bed with you keep the phone aside and hold you. I want my emptiness filled with your touch and find my closure in the heaves of your breathing. Take me in and leave me in no doubt, for I would live a moment with you than a lifetime without.
Pluck both wings off a butterfly twin, toss five bones into a black stone cauldron. Pull three strings of a skeleton puppet, draw a white circle around a mandolin. One burning needle, carve into a coffin, six long shadows swing the pendulum. A dagger to the chest, weave the mortal flesh, pierce the embryo outside the yolk of death.
If I were to confess, Which I won’t, I would apologize. If I were to tell you, The words burning on my lips, Which I refuse to do, I would say That I’m sorry For not giving you my best. If I were to speak the truth, Which I’ve never done, I’d get quite close, To your blooming cheeks And whisper to you, “I was wrong.” I would watch your lips As you ask me your question. I would say, rather softly, “I was afraid.” I would gently take your hand And lace our fingers together One last time And I would speak, “But I lost you anyway.”