these little things

quietly,
quietly
at night when crescent moons find themselves reflected in the nails with which you clutch your face, attempting again to make it perfect

(and failing,
but only because it was never flawed)

i will steal (because taking by force is the only way in times like these) into your bedroom

i will cross paths with the moon for a moment and believe that i am god (perhaps)

i will crawl into your bed like an incestuous father to cleave myself unto your side, but i will not touch you wrongly;
i will wrap my arms around the shape of you and squeeze, tightly,
until all the pieces of you fuse together again and you know in your sleep as i whisper near the delicate shell of your ear that i find you

beautiful

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s