I liked it when you wouldn't speak and just
Told me with your eyes under a failing streetlamp
On the wrong side of town.
It was as if you trusted me out of curiosity,
Not knowing where my hands would find themselves.
I can't stand the sound of daylight anymore.
I want you to imagine your hands, in a beautiful exchange,
Picking between my bones.
I'm ok to bleed, I want you to know this bodie's prisoner.
Getting past the compost takes years,
Wanting each other where we don't belong,
In stasis, cold stares frozen in a world
Where nothing is promised.
We'll keep hope on ice
To water down our drinks
To see who floats.
I crave your foul language on my side of the bed,
A tower onlt stand with something in it.