your touch feels like the landing on skin of a butterfly whose wings are on fire. I bury my face in the crook of your neck and inhale the scent of you; safety, home, god. your skin is gilded with honey and sun but I bet your lips taste like moonlight, so please kiss me until I see the stars in your eyes smeared all over the ceilings and walls. I want to entangle my hands in your hair and feel rose petals clinging to them when they withdraw. oh my beautiful and damned, I bet your love is ruining salvation. but God, if you are fire I want you to make me your Pompeii.
YOU ARE READING
to the stars who listen: poetry
Poetrya collection of poetry from a human heart to a human star. © 2016, lauren (images used are not mine unless stated otherwise, credits to original owners)
