your hair glows orange on the peak of your head,
like the end of the nighttime cigarettes I smuggle in the darkness--
your hair is as red and the beating heart inside your chest,
and your skin is pale like all the blood rushed to your crimson crown
so the rest of you reminded ivory.
your coal-black eyes grind into my skull,
and though your crow-like cawing grates my skin:
i like the way you make me think
