cold empty mattresses and falling stars

gilded honey


over sulphur

hearts and

severed hands;

sweet like

almond milk

yet rancidly

sour like

painful lust


i hope i don’t

scare you off

with my talk

of dislodged

clean limbs

that i plucked

within the


of my ribs,

tonight, i run


i love the

thought of

your germane


the shade in

your eyes

speaks like dust

through wind

and i chase

for the ocean…


and if i don’t

make it home

before the

horizon screams,

kiss me and

hope that

you won’t be


by the attention

of the moon.

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