I run light fingertips all over you,
imagining my touch has power to
transfer your hurt to me instead.
Your scars, tattoos, wild softness covered in
light shadows & dark temptations,
heart squeezed
like giving birth,
except without the raw, screaming,
white hot, touching the sun
& burning up
pain.
I wonder if you feel my touch
stretching out across dim lit streets,
over parked cars
& ivy covered walls;
seeking you out.
Your breath in my ear, then my mouth;
desire like smoke across blackened glass.
Dusty books; shabby & well loved
form cryptic clues
as to your character,
as though you’d stepped from the pages
or assimilated the ink into
your blood.
Doubting your existence,
but your pain is so real;
sharp, biting, fresh;
you are bleeding bleeding.
I make you laugh
with wild rambles,
life a sorry shambles;
I can ease it for a moment.
Foundations of eternity,
though built on shaky ground maybe.
If it crumbles away,
I will remain