vildrosor

tell me you understand that when i press my lips there my tongue there my teeth here — tell me you understand that i am trying to devour you in the most gentle of ways as the night smothers the day and darkness consumes the sun.

amidst the fluttering of wild heart beats as our lips collide and our tongues cross paths is the ever present bittersweetness that lingers like the afternoon summer sun — i am reminded that all things end.

don’t go you said you whispered you prayed but not even your hands on my shoulders your hands on my throat your fist against my cheek your tightly woven rope could stop me from moving like a hurricane through your prison of finely written and well composed letters in which you promised that like the sun rises and greets a new day, you too would rise one morning and understand why your blood boiled to such an extent that you felt you needed to carve your pain into my unmarked flesh. don’t go you said you whispered you prayed

a cloud kissed me today — her fingers ran through my hair. i felt her lips touch the tip of my ear; she whispered like the end of spring. her murmurs were that of birds moving south and children growing old and blankets being tugged over entangled legs, arms, and souls. when she left, i remembered to breathe again.

i’ve never felt that existence was something one could alienate oneself from. how do you isolate from the inevitable, the omnipotent? how do you pull away from all that is? there is stardust on your tongue, and last night, the moon kissed your skin. when the universe was created, so too were you; you were a child barely born, expanding and existing.