Another bleak winter arises

As swiftly as your love climbed

Onto my back,

Another echoless whisper combined

With all the words my trembling lips

Spilled heavy onto your own;

Have I ever had half the courage to

apprise you of my blistering lust

So rapid, yet fierce 

The way it put licking honey off a spoon, 

To shame

I gasped for you

In all the wrong ways

But fear not, and hold me close

Until dusk finishes on my face;

Another circus of love bred from 

My drought limbs, and yet I have searched

high, and even low, 

For a hand like yours

Amidst stone

As nightfall shields my eyes 

Like you would a weeping child,

I detest the cold 

As it reminds me of back home

And my soon to be

Departure 

I remember you,

Throbbing like a deep rooted scar;

As vaguely as the golden light leaves faux

Trails of your silhouette on a Sunday morning;

Taunting, almost, here, almost,

Bones like thick thistles 

And a mouth like sour milk,

Together with every reincarnating evening sun,

I atone for your fractured heart,

I birth effortlessly a desire for a 

hollowed hand,

Together with my ever growing torment

I will tirelessly mold us 

Into a robust statue 

So concrete; not even your solemn grief 

Can break and crack the likes of us 

I will build a shattered throne 

For your colossal 

heart to reside, on days 

Where the scorching winter snow

Burns holes through your soles and 

Trenches through mine;

I will make the distance feel like resistance 

And how my giant voice mimics the very breaking sound of

your own; a ghost of a touch

Vanquished by my rancid love

Bones like sour milk,

And a mouth like thick thistles;

Lust drowned like a bee

In honey, yet I have savagely loved you

With all my clothes on, 

Still

 Vocal cords like anchors at times,

What felt like ravenous humming birds
Beating their torn wings against my throat;

My love language was bone against flesh

And how the skin breaks gently against the lip;

soft hands, but rough intentions 

As I am reminded

That I have always been my very own absence,

And your very own presence, with every incoherent pattern 

My fingers would draw onto your hips;

Like love notes marrying our bodies

I feel as if 

There is a stone

Nestled in between

My ribs,

And yet strangely, 

If you place your hand

Onto my chest,

You can feel it beat;

Maybe it was the way

That I believed

That even heartless people

Can grow to feel

And grieve

 Date me-

I've got sad music

And soft lips

And hands made

For touching;

I like to eat cherries

In July and my name is 

Spelled in three different ways;

One for every time you 

See me cry in the shower

But we'll have lots of fun,

I swear, we'll sit and watch

The mold grow onto my plates

In my room, we can touch each other's

Bodies until I start to mend together with the wall

Behind you;

But don't ask me about my mother; shove your 

Fingers far down my throat so I can taste

Your last girl's love for you,

I've got a wine stained tongue 

That might be a little bitter,

Eyes so bright only in the winter,

Smoke too much and sleep

Too little;

We can both pretend 

We don't have an expiry date,

And hold me tight until we can't tell

Where you start, and I end

I scream at any mirror I see

And dig holes in my backyard

A little too deep;

Gonna need something to bury

Your love for me after you've had

A couple of drinks