To strive again,
trying to splash and spill you
onto the page,
capture an
angelic nebulous
expression of a soul,
I could never
quite manage it
so I hinted around and about you,
then waltzed
straight through you
into the midnight
holding you in my head.

And sometimes you
pray weeping to the heavens
‘please don’t take him
from me’ and
the gods of war and water
take him anyway, and
you spend your days
staring out the window
hoping for rain
on a Sunday morning
that might turn
into snow
and listening to that one song
over and over
cause it makes you feel sexy and alive
even just for a moment. 

And with death starting fires
inside my house,
my instinct was not
to jump from the rafters,
howling like a fucking banshee
all the way down,
to sizzle,
scorch burns
on my skin,
fire staining my tongues delight,
I danced with your spirit,
and kissed your mouth
down to your neck
until the moans and shivers
reached the fucking moon

and back.

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