Apostasy
Posted: 27 Apr 2015, 23:43
Since the night we have shared
a bed, I’ve tried to coalesce our bodies
but somewhere,
a circuit went wrong in you.
I kiss your freckles until they
melt, and I wonder if I am
your Talisman.
I wonder if you defined apostasy,
because since I fell into you,
I’ve abandoned everything.
I used to dwell in graveyards,
looking for a boy like you,
a man who resembles a burning
home that I want to live in.
Let your caved ceilings burrow
me, your rubble engulf me.
Let me swim in the terror that
is you. I think I smelled the sin
on you, somewhere in between
the rise and fall of your spine
as you slept. That night, I prayed
until my knees were bruised.
Today, my body is blue with
loving you and I am peeling
my skin like an onion, I am
offering you my nectar
heart. Palms open, I long
to throw myself into this
ephemeral love.
Smoke me like your favorite
cigarette, whisper to
me until I am ash falling at your
feet.
My bedroom has morphed
into something cosmic;
otherworldly – full. We live
here in the quiet spaces
between the turning hands
of the clock.
a bed, I’ve tried to coalesce our bodies
but somewhere,
a circuit went wrong in you.
I kiss your freckles until they
melt, and I wonder if I am
your Talisman.
I wonder if you defined apostasy,
because since I fell into you,
I’ve abandoned everything.
I used to dwell in graveyards,
looking for a boy like you,
a man who resembles a burning
home that I want to live in.
Let your caved ceilings burrow
me, your rubble engulf me.
Let me swim in the terror that
is you. I think I smelled the sin
on you, somewhere in between
the rise and fall of your spine
as you slept. That night, I prayed
until my knees were bruised.
Today, my body is blue with
loving you and I am peeling
my skin like an onion, I am
offering you my nectar
heart. Palms open, I long
to throw myself into this
ephemeral love.
Smoke me like your favorite
cigarette, whisper to
me until I am ash falling at your
feet.
My bedroom has morphed
into something cosmic;
otherworldly – full. We live
here in the quiet spaces
between the turning hands
of the clock.