"because we burned bright-bright-bright and
i could never quite look at the lava pouring from your
mouth, and the suns that burn the hottest always die
the fastest, and when you collapsed
the only thing i could think to do was
collapse
into
you"
and you told me how badly you wanted to
fuck
me, and i wanted to cry, because i knew you didn’t
glass mirror hall of your cold-spark mind, and while
blue
trickles down the canals of my arteries and
old light
of
dead stars
because last thursday your hands singed
spiderweb fingerprints into the hollow hole
of my back, and the cliché of your blue-blue eyes melted
into my sticky wet blue-blue
blood,
and trees made webs of their dead branches against the
cast iron sky,
and you told me how badly you wanted to
fuck me, and i wanted to cry, because i knew you didn’t
in the
glass mirror hall of your cold-spark mind, and while
blue trickles down the canals of my arteries and
laps quietly at the undersides of my cold sweaty
flesh, your lifeblood is entirely composed of plasma that
sting at my hands when you pull me too close
because that winter we made ourselves to be suns as
the sky turned against us; our fiery tentacles reached across the
sky, tried to warm that cold empty space where
old light
of
dead stars
streaks down to earth—
the only thing i could think to do was
collapse
into
you
spiderweb fingerprints
loved
me, but i already knew the answer, so instead i bit your
lips and watched plasma leak onto the skin stretched
tootight over my collarbone but
i used to wonder what would
happen, once all my light curled up into the
folds of your hot skin, and where i would
go once all of me was part of
you.