the way it isn't

SO,
i am right behind you
sucking you in with the deepest
part of my lungs, holding it
in, but never releasing. can
i be up there with you? look
at me as your equal, because
i promise if the slightest sharp
object grazed me i'd bleed you out.

i'd bleed you out.
take my faults as your faults,
because they're mine, yours are
always mine,
you're mine, and
god knows i'd go to hell for you. HELL,
i already have !
look at yourself. you gaze
at me for an instance through
those half-moons and like that
i am a child;
a sinner subject to scrutiny only
the holy would understand. i'm in the dark where
i can hide my eyes, i'm in the sun
where i can hide my eyes. my eyes are closed so
yours cannot find mine.
then again i'd bleed you out. even
someone so uninhibited can't crack a statue
constructed by a thousand men.
constructed by the devil himself.

counterroom,
counterseat,
counterposition.
the tension is absurd. my
fingernails will accumulate granite
from your stone-slab of a bed,
stone fucking cold slab.
have i deserved it? I turn over,
and exhale the frosty air that my
lungs have collected from this everlasting
ice sculpture that lies
between us. it's the most beautiful thing
i've ever seen, sharp with frost and
soft with lace. i shiver and touch my side.

melt away, i whisper to it,
but you never hear me.
i think i'd still bleed you out.
the perfect image to
even a trained eye, but i
am WAITING for you to
mater it.
those eyes are not made to scrutinize
mine, but to hold their gaze in a
crowded room. the deepest and most
secret affection. that strong
neck will be between my
lips, and willingly. form was created
solely for my form, silhouettes to touch
and the create the most induplacible
art.
hands to extenuate the hips, your feet were made to walk
ten hundred thousand miles to meet me
and say good morning.
hair under my nails, lips anywhere,
tongue everywhere, and at all times.
skin and flesh,
tooth and nail,
always vulnerable to mine.


my eye is trained.
but i would bleed you out.

"the cinders are falling like snow". the art of fucking up.

The pain of loss lays heavier than a million cinder blocks on my chest, making it hard for me to breathe. He's always there. He won't leave me alone.