Of AllThe taste yourtonguefloods into thevalleys of your lips-you are my sweetliquid gold;I'd steal fromfrom your mouthanytime.They say of all thepeople thatpierce me with knives andgreen eyes, you'vegot feathers growing from your sockets.Andthey paintacross my skin everygoose bumpof shyness and shiverof longing.Because yourfingers trace my shoulderlike I've gotglass rosesblooming from thepores of myporcelain;And they sayof all theinsignificant peopleyou've got the mostbeautifully naivecupped in thepalm of your hand.
To The SkyI took a finger to the sky andyou inhaled sosharplythat I'm not sure youeven took a breath at all.It was the glimpseofthe fading endofa shooting star;I saw it all.A hole in the night,time warped in the sky.The universe'sglitter fingertipsmanipulating beforemyeyes.The lights teased melike they knew I wantedto dance with themso close.My toes curledwithout consenttowards a cyan starbut I lost mydelicacy and he ranaway.But I thought likeyou, quickly,still in the burst ofmagicI gasped so deeplythat surely thesweetdust in my throatmade something of me.Right nearer wasa