my fingers ache to cradle your hair once more
and winter your body with my fears,
a cold claw at your throat, love, i long
to etch my disparaging words into your neck
like the time i smothered you with tattoos and flowers
and kisses on your head,
to hold you and sculpt your sorrows,
to fall asleep and in love
upon the hollow of your chest, and smile in my sleep
because you are mine. whole and true.
and it aches to have you sheared off my skin like this,
it aches to see you cry,
a bleating brevity that i know
time will heal and seal. soon, you will
rust away and my lungs will forgive
everything that has been inflicted upon it.
but for now you dawdle and digress,
and i keep writing these poems in the dark.
holy crap, i neeed to move on.
also this is like the shittiest poem ever but it iz what it iz.