Like A Flu

Shadows slip between lips parted in shock,

Mouth open in a way wanton and willing.

There is a beckoning whisper moving through

The dead brush and the hail-stricken trunks.

That mouth drinks the words like starlight

But there is an unquenchable thirst in those

Stone-dark eyes, gleaming with madness.

.

Feed her.

.

What is the harm in letting a sliver or two

Of snow-dressed falsehoods slip through?

Where is the issue in dripping those silver

Bits of star and moon down her chest?

She hungers, after all, for the taste of the

Breeding grounds of stars, supernovas,

The dying light of fat, greedy young stars.

.

Fill her stomach.

.

Let her drown if she likes on the cynicism

Let her swell from the urge to drink the sky.

Let her ache from the consuming of you.

Let her poison you with infinite possibilities.

Let the stars nest in your eyes for the winter.

Let them sleep warm beside you in the cold.

Let her touch linger like a flu in your chest.

.

Bleed into her.