I had scraped my knees
and scarred my elbows raw,
crawling at your feet with beggar's eyes
and a box full of my gifts to you
(a dowry you always refused to take
because it always came too late
because I couldn't move with any more haste
and it crushed me at every turn.)

But as it turns out, I'm alive,
and nothing you have done has changed that.
The slow sleep that becomes my night bride
holds me lovingly and strong.
As things cool down, your face leaves my mind's eye,
the aching echoes of your voice finally turn to silence
and the electricity of your kiss
is made as meager as the hum of my TV screen
when I leave the room in a fit of loneliness,
when I am too much to take without you.

Maybe you find yourself so perfect
that I would need a thousand years of improvement
before I could take your hand in mine
and curl your hair around my finger;
before I could see your teeth lined up
as your lips moved aside, and, wide-eyed
you would laugh your siren song and I,
oh I would fall for you again,
as seems is the current, endless trend
that leaves me broken yet again
and locks away the chances that scour the earth for me.

I must leave this circular path
that is drawn around our lives and fueled by self-made lies
to keep the image of our highlights fresh as the morning dew.
There are so many stars hovering around this city;
your halo doesn't glow so brightly when I think of them.
Those opportunities that rest their thoughts on the same things
that span through everything I think.

There is someone who will love me like I intended to love you.
I will turn my heart towards them and I will fire.
I will blaze as the heat of our loneliness
rises with the smoke of the rotting fruits you bore me.
There is more out there than this.
There is love.