sacred and naive
leafling
unadultered

leafling unaware

leafling you are untouched
and perfectly content

polluted just a phase

--

don't you dare bloom

don't you dare.

reaching
(slowly)
careful
gentle

don't wake the sleeping
don't shake the fearing

let all be soft
and still
and still

leave it be

to rest
to rest

and
i want you
as the rose bud
blooms

i know now
that
i want you

eyes
       wide and wanting.  
lips
       red and rushed.
      
reckless becomes my name
as you whisper carelessness in my ear-

you are everything i have ever wanted and more.

hands
cold and burning me everywhere you go,
‘can i see?’
and i would like to say yesnoyesno because that is what i feel but i stare at you instead with

eyes
       wide and wanting and where will this go?
and you turn me around and around and we are moving now, quicker than the stars on the edge of the universe.
and the universe is only one word today,
        
         you.

and you
        are next to me with your
lips
       all red and raw and perfect
and i want to ask if you really love me
but i don’t want to ruin this.
      
we
     are the curious youth,
drunk on the light of the moon against our arms
and adorned with the fascination of
skin on skin
and kisses returned
and a timeless embrace because

yes
     we don't know what we’re doing but
no
     i don’t want anything else.

he is everything
and i am something nice
to have whenever he’s got spare time.

he is the orbit and all of the above,
i am the forgotten shoe
decayed and aged
and lost

and i feel like i’m in his orbit
tumbling and turning
around him,
motion always around him
closer further closer further

and (i know) it’s wrong to feel lucky
when i get him for just a small moment
because shouldn’t he want that moment as much as i do?

it’s wrong to feel empty and
cold without him
because doesn’t that mean he makes up my wholeness?
my being?
my soul?

doesn’t that mean i am lost?
i am nothing?
that i never really knew myself in the first place.

those moments are poison.
they bleed and blister
and burn and burn

they hurt

they’re honey
drowned bees

perfectly content

and i can’t find a way to end this violent cycle
festering within
obliterating me from
the
inside out

because those moments are heaven
they are

and they’re the only place i ever want to be
and the only place i need

when nothing else matters
and nothing else is real
nothing but his lips on my neck
and my hand on his cheek
and the heat
and the burn
and the want

is what i crave.

the want.

a rose by the hour
floral shower
florid stain

the waxy lip
(incarnadine)
blooms for the sweet
and fragant touch

of
that young lily

iced and white
with blushed insides
and forbidden
fruit.

there is a timeless tale
within those pearls
within that smile

of youth

pulchritude

purity.

there is a quintessential
romance
beneath that lust
(that noisome desire)

heart beating and breaking
and pulsating and

suffocating

the light from the room
and the gold from the sun
and the bud
from her mother.

dulcet petal
browned
and grotesque -
posioned by posion
and romantic unrest
yet


a rose by the hour

floral shower

florid

stain.

perhaps
the silence
of souls
(and the lonely vagabond)
causes the crowd
inside
to crush
compress
idle.

or...
the wait
for semantic value
for purpose and thrill,
motion and love

and love and love.

and i never could
speak those three words,
for fear
(or solidity or earthquakes or
sadness)
kept me steady.

but i still see the perfect moments
in grayscale
in movie screen filter.

with his back towards me
tracing softly
with my finger tip

three words

so easy.

and the worst of it all
(the tight in my chest
and wince in the brain)

is that i knew
i just knew
that if i said it...

he would say it back.

I change for you
Like the rose bud blooms.
Like the sea sways and sings
To the sweet sweet moon.

And the light of the sky,
the burning liquid sphere
the life
the warmth
cant compare to
the itch in my spine.

The freeze in my fingertips
The rhythm,
The dance of my core.
When you linger relentless

And natures hymn (relentless)
Paints the soft and sugar motion
Of wood nymphs and faeries
Mystic yet familiar.

You are the fantasy,
The myth
The blind blind faith.

You are the sun,
And the stars
And all of the above.

on a moonlight tryst
       i gave you my all,
       branches bending and bowing
       to Gaea.
       and her lover of the north-wind.
  
oh, autumn,
make me bare,
make me starve
          warm me, delight me.
love me thrice in the tenebrous
corners of the fairyland and bee hive.
                  
    the ichor rains down on us
  and gifts us wine for our roots
and un sospiro for our souls.

let’s dance all night,
         with a zephyr through our leaves,
         the inferno overlooked.

i will love you in winter,
with your polar spines and
bared back blues.

i will love you in spring,
in the whispers of Renaissance.
where youth awakens
in the sweet song of Helios’ new born.

and i will love you all the rest,
     as God wrote you just for me,
     a sonnet of youth and pulchritude
     a sonnet for the millennium,
     i will treasure for
     infinity.

your light is different,
than the blush
of tangerine summer
and crystal lakes
and Neptune dreams.

glowing, gliding
liquid metal
boyhood and yellowed
nostalgia

built from the bones
of shattered youth
and you
and you
and i,

and i have always known you,
in the bluest of blues
and treacle nights.

i have always felt you,
above and below.

in the empyrean
amongst the wood nymphs
(the green ghost lingering)
within the fairyland,
the sweet and poison reverie.

you are the one truth,
the warmest flame-
the crescent moon-

you are the only...

until i forget myself again.