flutter

you're so close that i think that i could just s

                                                                  i

                                                                    n

                                                                      k

into your alabaster skin; so that the blue

of your trainers pools an ocean around

my feet, so that the beige of your trousers

melts into me like cream on coffee, so that

the red of your shirt spreads like a blush

across me.

and now i ask, how do i tell you?
there's silver fire and gold ice in
eternal salsa across my skin; all
that from just a smile.

how do i tell you?

my mind is in a perpetual autumn; 

monotone,  sepia leaves falling to the ground,

gathering up like gold dust,

or just plain old dust.

all it takes if for you to leave the room,

and it all disintegrates, you know,

all those beautiful, effervescent thoughts i have,

thoughts i could sew into stupid little love poems.

you're so close that i think,

butterflies will fly o u t of my mouth,

instead of the words i should be saying,

with the way you make my p ul s e

flutter.

lumen love

      i get jealous even of your carotid artery...
                                  ...
                                  ...i wish i was oxygen so you could b r e a t h e
                                      .         .          .                          .   .
                                      ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
                                           .           .         .    .     .     .                                                                          
                                       me in and i could diffuse into your cells.
                                             .          .            .           .       .
                                      ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...
                                          .           .                             . .
                                    ...because i need to disperse into your s k i n,
                                                                     ...
                                                                     ...
                                                                      .
                                                                     ...
                                                                     ...
                                                                      .
...and move to the drumming of your pulse, forever.

there's nobody else to impress

she strings moons along on a silver chain to tie around her neck,
and plucks stars from the sky like it's a tesco to turn them into
earrings. she's wearing halos as a belt and dances to the wind
like she's got diamonds on her heels.
                                                               she doesn't need that from you;
                    the man with the common accent and thousand-shaded eyes
  and heaven locked away underneath his skin, Grace leaking through from
                                                         raking cuticles is more than enough.

midnight snack

your skin swallows up the sun,

until you're fit to burst with sunrays leaking through your fingertips,

your tongue traces thought-ridden lips as your cloudy mind

sheds judgements like clothes for charity

precise and well-worn;

your silence says more than it should,

(

slithering up to my heart, [f ang s] sinking in,

the poison in my veins hums for your voice;

i'm w r i t h i n g                     gossamer skin,

  underneath

pulled [tight] over blood+bones,

fireworks filtered through fallen lids,

&& 

[there's a song written on the inside of my wrists]

seagreen lyrics singing lifebloods,

as the moon creeps out, child-like curiosity,

inky ghosting locks liplocking across the night,

milky moonbeams f

                                a

                                     l

                                         l

                                                        to earth, 

to kiss my buttermilk bones;

and now i'm always hungry,

for pale skin and luminous blue eyes,

[for that blue roadmap of amazonian rivers to to your liquid lusty love]

who else can cool my blood?

there's some kind of animal trapped in between the smooth muscle

and endothelial layers of my vocal chords,

pushing through like a thick vine to overtake my face;

{please, i'm howling for you}

you: carmine candy and home and real,

i need to be (wholer),

because my breathing w a n e s,

blueblueblue in the midnight air,

tendrils of heat s p r e a d i n g like wildfire;

and the moon . . . waxes, leaving the night sky,

ravenous for adventure and [p o  o   l    s] into the ocean;

even the sky feeds from my awe of you;

in the dark is the best way to hear your heartb e a t,

thick heartstrings like black powerlines p a s s i n g  t h r o u g h 

the core of every star from you to me,

.h.o.o.k. onto my diaphragm,

make my pace as they d r a g me to you,

over gravel, grit && grass,

bloody feet on the yellow brick road,

hansel and gretel follow me home;

)

i smile

-  k c a b -

 at you patiently&patiently,

serrated incisors glinting in sunlight;

and we're only human

-

[the autumn moon is bright, tonight]

come home, come home

once upon a time,
i took the stars from my eyes,
joined them with yours,
and kept them in a silver
heart-shaped locket around my neck,

i used this chain to find my way back,
to you, to you, to you,
torn, tired trainers trailing
across the vast night sky;
empty as stars and moons,
shy from your smile
you are home, always.

sleep, per chance to dream

my joints creak open like a bedroom door,
they invite you in,
you're never here, where i need you to be.

i wonder if i can just s t o p,
but there's a promise written
between the lines of your hands,
they will never stop haunting me,
my white cotton sheets rip in my grip,
and i dream like smoke,
you twist and turn and dance
around my consciousness.

i could use some sleep tonight.

heartstring

. one .

{tracing the inkblue lines across creamy parchment,

 & writing out the rhythm, one-two, of your heart.}

. two .
{running underneath the black corded powerline, high above,
 electric connections in 2 hearts, skip a beat, over the distance.}

. three .

{looking out for the bloodline thrumming with redredlife,

 your touches hold  me and your pulse makes this real.}

let's get naked

this isn't art;
this is profound truth.
and when you strip my words,
peel back each metaphor and simile,
and oxymoron and adjective,
look at each individual letter,
bared and curvy&dots,
there's just one profound truth.

i love you, you dork.
. you're just too fucking proud to strip my words back and see it .

you're so close,
you can count,
each ebony eyelash,
and make wishes,
as your breath fans my face softly.


wish, wish, wish,
for me.

(god knows, i wish for you with every part of me,

not just my,

eyes.)

ancient fossils

you're a lazy saturday afternoon,
with a good book,
as i trace the curve of your hip

it is written in our bones;
iheshe amiswillbe for youherhim.

tick-tock, tick-tock

"You're--"

Of course. Of course I am. I couldn't possibly know that I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life and make you breakfast and kiss your nose. I couldn't possibly think about curling up next to you to read a book on a cold day and having your head in my lap when we watch a late night movie. Couldn't possibly want to do up your tie and iron your clothes and race with you in the shopping centre. 

                                 "--just--"

Of course, I couldn't possibly know that my heart stops just at hearing your name and go into myocardial infarction when you walk near me and have chest pains at the thought someone else loving you and you loving them back. I couldn't possibly want more for you in life than what you have and want to know more about you and might like to go out for a coffee sometime. Couldn't possibly need you or need to see your or hear you or feel you nearby to just stay okay.

                                                                "--too--"

Of course, I couldn't possibly know exactly how I want to touch you and where and how. I couldn't possibly imagine the exact details of warming your bed, and your chairs and your tables. Couldn't possibly want you to to make love with me and touch me and just kiss me with tongue and teeth. 

                                                                                                                        "--young."

Of course, I'm young for now. Not forever. there won't be much difference, soon.