| What have you painted on the walls of your heart, sweetest delirium? Have you painted my name? My moans? The way I beg for your tongue? The way I call you mine when our hands are entwined? |
| How do I make you love me with the same fury, beautiful sonata? How do I make you scream your adoration? How do I turn your tears into stabs of possession? How do I turn your blood into liquor and drown you in existentialism? |
| Where do you hide your desires, calmest storm? Is it in between my bones? Is it in the crook of my neck? Are you hiding them away from the devil? Are you afraid that he might be frightened and crown you as his queen? Are you afraid of being on my throne? |
HUH!
// I think that you've painted a sunset but the color has faded out, all you have now is ash from your dry veins, a sun that bites with coldness, an ocean getting high off the dusty, silver hues. It is melancholically absurd, how the heavens on your heart are resembling your eyes, how the way you love sadness is not the same way you love me, how you prefer thunder, but close your eyes with a flash of lightning. I heard you hide your desires inside them, and each time they crash onto the ground, the electricity makes you feel alive. Tell me, oh, do tell me, quietest lovebird, if you want me to plant fire underneath your skin so that I can touch you and set your death on fire, burn it to a crisp, make it fade with the wind.
IF I DO, WILL YOU SPEND AN ETERNITY WITH ME? //
