I want to live inside your nectar.


My teeth ache, 

Forbidden in my mouth.


I can only speak words through my eyes,

They flicker back and forth at the movement of your hands.


I am selfish and wretched, 

Only true to my pen and paper.

So i grasp them in my claws, 

As i drift away. 


I saw you in my dream. You were my dream.


Threaded in milk bedsheets, you pieced yourself next to me.


I saw us in the mirror. 

You were the same as before. Nineteen and handsome. Shy and outspoken.


Orange filtered through, your eyelids fluttering like light from the window shades.


You couldn't stop moving. Your body was speaking through paint,

A vessel for your visions. 


The colors were viscous, molding with your fingers. You were vacillating back and forth, lucid even within the confines. 


I watched you from the pillows, my parts scattered on the floor like a child. My legs were flailing in the air, my head braced backwards to admire you upside down.


You looked like gold.


I want to cry to you my acidulous tears,

Feed you the nectar to your ingenious.