When stars blow winds of stark light
My hair flies, flooding your face;
pulling out the crud from
the wounds it leaves,
intoxicated by what your whispering to me
wrapping me in a feeling that leaves
quicker than the sound of hand claps.
Now our love is like a doomed city,
sinking in,
to tangle me in a comfort of open road,
on the horizon is just the painted picture
of a temporary home.
Where memories of frozen kisses
merge into rattle snakes, who wait
to sink poisoned fangs into fingertips;
choking sweetly at our wind pipes.
And we must warm to the pain
like wax softened under a fire,
sewing itself into your reality
as I hope the universe we've made will not be in vein.
