you are but a single spec of dust
and yet you are
every particle that my eyelashes
have ever deflected
out of some
(probably false)
sense of defense
and mistrust.

the contrast
has never broken
the ice sheet that covers
my bones and organs
so sharply,
so warmly,
so comfortably

moving mountains
has become simple
with the oxygen and hope
you generously give me
in each blink
and
velvet
touch.

It's funny how the heart can
eat away at organs like
a starving, rabid dog.

Your corroded liver
and decaying lungs
are contagious under a false pretense,
my dear.

Your skin reveals
the true hue of that
which makes you be.

You bleed nothing
but grace.
You slow nothing
but a perpetually accelerating pace-

and the ability to slow time
is not an abundant quality.

For you, the world is shrouded,
and such a distorted vision
is nothing to relax about;
I want to see the heights of
towering playground equipment
in your eyes.

You deserve nothing less than
all of the water in lakes I have ever seen.

You deserve nothing less
than continents
encapsulating the altruism
of each
fragile,

timeless,

exhalation.

I have heard a heart
drop and a
heart burst,
but I've never quite felt
a contraction
or inflation
as red
or
as full of life
as you.

You are blue
in an ocean
that never knew.

Yellow paints
the sun,
and your hips,
too.

I gather flowers
in valleys,
blooming without
any stems
for you.

Sometimes, there are
dream of days when
trees aren't so hollow.

When I do not wish to live,
how can words leave a mouth
for actions to follow?

I will rot.
I will live
for hypothetical thought.

Nothing is real,
and the rain
will leave me  
to lose bones
and wither away
like a calendar
left to rot
with hypothetical thought
and empty plains spanning
light years
in length.

Just give me it,
******* it.
Give me the strength
for a collapse
spanning light years in length,

I am January.
But you're better than snow.

You have enough light
to right the wrongs
done by the evil men
from a lifeline
to my favorite
spider's web
sewn.

You lack the thickness
to right the wrongs I've
implicitly justified
as a nail to my fragile skin.

I'm heartless.

You are a pin
You may take my kin,
bleed, multiply,
amplify,
and remain.

Take my soul
and leave him
to do nothing
but be.

Tonight the stars have reminding me of hindsight,
of the alternatives to drinking milk and of why I hated myself for so many years and then stopped.

I could never feel so comfortable lying on my back while rabbits and leaves filled my veins with an ecstasy that a past self could never cut or swallow into sedation and then oblivion.

Maybe purgatory still lines the ground that my shoes constantly conflict with, but if you are my nothingness then I have suddenly found everything in absolutely nothing,
or maybe it's in the way that death chooses to hug me whenever I am around you because she has always strangled me with enough force to destroy villages and any spec of a hope that the rope in the tree in the oak tree in my back yard was not my final destination in your absence.

this place is the softest of fabrics that kept me alive when my legs were bleeding out in a cloud where thunder and lightning yelled all of my failures directly into my eardrums while I froze to death and was left to rot.

They mostly leave forests to burn
but
I will pour hurricanes for you.