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i’ve cried over possums in the road.

there’s never been an ounce of blood that i have spilled.

but for you i’d change.

there’s blinding red behind my blue tears.

you hurt her and you will not get away with it.

i will riddle you until the blind see your pain

through bullet holes of braille.

i will make music from your throat as you choke on the once white piano keys from your grin.

the leaving of the light from your eyes

will be as bright to me as the sun.

and i will sing of this moment for as long as i live.

i’ve never hated anyone.

but for you id change.

i’ve never hurt anyone.

you have.

and for that,

for you,

i can’t absolve you of your sins.

nothing i can say will make you better.

and nothing you can say will make me forget.

but if you called me at night, no matter how late.

if you called me and said you were drunk or stoned and needed a ride home,

i’d come get you.

and i wouldn’t kiss you.

i wouldn’t tell you i love you.

i wouldn’t talk to you about back then.

There’s a dog. A mutt.

Teeth terrible enough to pierce stone.

Long enough to dig craters.

The corners of its mouth expel pink-once-white foam.

Its gray fur tinged with crimson.

This world. The mutt.

With its terrible, long teeth,

its pink-once-white foam,

and its crimson-tinged, mangy gray fur;

With all its carnivorous hunger,

would not,

no,

could never,

bite into the flesh of our love,

for the sweetness would rot its teeth,

The only light for miles.

Pale sand is strewn about your cool face.

The one which I yearn to kiss.

But my roots dig deep

and keep me living.

So I’ll hope you notice every pass.

Maybe one day your orbit will break

and skin turned blue

i’ll lie on the ground

and die with you.

Your pulse is a rhythm,

Slow, but accelerating as we get closer.

Your breath is a melody,

Ringing in my ear like a desperate symphony.

The quicker your music, the quicker our movements.

We dance with passion, aggression, even,

But yet, still with grace.

As our dance goes on, as our pace quickens,

The soundtrack crescendos to a climax.

We collapse clumsily,

Our breathing heavy with labor,

When night is at its highest,

light carves a path.

Pale as the bride’s cloth,

Even small things.

A cool leaf in the wind.

The way light reflects off your countertops.

The sound of bugs singing in the night.

Or cars growling on the roads.

Then, you will fully appreciate things that are truly, wholly beautiful.

You will be able to drown in a song,

soak up a view,

or breathe with a person,

My legs are burning.

My feet are sore.