hands on my shoulders,
tensed muscle (a predator, i do not want to hurt)
the film plays a bloodied scene,
you'll slot your hand under my bones,
caress the intricacies of engravings
i don on my skin, you'll never remember this,
your fingers are gilded in yellow- yellow of
praise and welcoming and a false hope,
draw it along my spine,
feel the blood drip down your forearm,
oh, the freckles bleed blue, youre all too perfect,
remove my teeth, i cannot hurt you
drench my face in orange, it was
always our color,
leather and blood and
all of the scars i've healed
and all the scars you'd given,
lead me by the wrist, as i have done you,
take me to the trees and tell me
that we'd find each other in darkness, light,
numb and deaf, and
i'll tell you that there's never a universe without you.
YOU ARE READING
an idiots guide to life; how to survive the badlands of wyoming
Poetrythe slightly deranged ramblings of a teenage trans guy living in wyoming there's no overarching theme but there sure is a lot of dogs, horses, and god(s) . i do not know what i am talking about 97% of the time mostly posted chronologically in order...
