It is Sunday, past midnight,
and my world is still.
I smell you on my clothes
and in my hair while I sulk
at the thought of change,
of brand new fragrances
wafting through tomorrow’s air.
I do not wish for it,
only to be perpetually seventeen,
velvet skinned and yours,
a champion of chasing
headlights
and God
and tenderness.
It is Sunday, past midnight,
and I am forever.
Forever dreaming sweetly
Somewhere seventeen million
light years away
from you.
With you.
I
am
madly
existing.
I crave your moonlight
fingertips searching my darkness–
carving shooting stars from my joy that only sees you.
Sea
Depth
Lurching
Starving cold
Craving the wasted
desolation, dark blue churning
what once was, what is, what exists beneath mercy.
Dust
Gray
Fading
Expired
We are forgotten
and disguised in soft secrecy–
the dull-toothed bite of Time’s unapologetic teeth.
Your warmth feels cold to me tonight,
Lost voices, dusted skin,
Hands trembling in the fading light,
Soft prayers melt to sin.
Lost voices, dusted skin
Your touch beneath thin frost–
I search for fire deep within
All hope forever lost.
Your touch beneath thin frost
Stars blanketing your eyes
Paths never again crossed
Until our heavens rise.
Stars blanketing your eyes
Your warmth feels cold to me tonight
Until our heavens rise
Hands trembling in the fading light.
