letting out a soft moan, she
brings chills to my skin
and paralyzes my bones
her icy breath caresses the nape
of my neck, she is nostalgia
dark hair and pale eyes
her lips whisper my name
my nose blushes in shades
of red
my fingertips ache
in shades of blue, I meet her
soft, pale body with the
harshness of mine and
once again, tangled together,
she has come–
my love, December.
watch her melt into
the sand, her heart claims this land
where date fruits taste like
home
it has become
harder to breathe
on this continent that
is not my own, when
I try to speak, all
that comes out is
the sweet perfume of
small white stars
jasmine vines encapsulate
my lungs— it is not my
space
to grow here
maybe it’s the dark,
acidic coffee I refuse
to take any other way
or the wind lashing
at my exposed neck
this autumnal morning
it could be the disgusting
cigarettes I smoke too much
or the anxiety that shakes me
I feel it coming
like knots in my throat
like frozen dark chocolate
and there’s nothing I can do about it.
maybe I’m just bitter.
I found you
in
the broken bits
of
sea glass and
in
the chaos of the
winter waves.
You haven’t left me yet.
my lover is arcane
for, he only speaks in tongues
he breathes cold, cadaverous air
to fill my empty lungs
Latin chants
over freshly turned earth
he comes creeping in the night
when not another soul is heard
beneath a new moon sky
and in the howling wind
he quietly stalks
aching to nourish his sins
cemeteries are always silent
for, death brings with him a certain hush
you can barely hear his ghostly moans,
not even the roses blush
my lover is strange
for, he never makes a sound
but the pale look in his eyes
can make my dead heart pound
his voice sends gentle waves into the air
they resonate loud around my head
just long enough to
bring me back from the dead
aural necromantics,
we dance beneath decade-old graves
to the cadence of collecting memories
something my body yearns for and craves
again and again,
he brings me back to life
as our lascivious scene fades
into black and white
and when we are together,
I am but frail bones beneath his grip
there is little else I yearn for as
his bony fingers trace my hips
draped in black lace
between silk coffin sheets
my lover and I breathe
one foot apart and six feet deep
eternally I will lie
here in his stone-cold clutch
he is my graveyard baby,
my skeleton boy crush
I was a living nightmare,
sick of these
human
and heinous minds
I will remain
like many
however,
this must end
