and,
like smoky quartz, evanescent but firm,
you would ignore
the sunset and the sky's stain of poison,
both hanging low and obvious.

you never were a diamond,
transparent in your seduction,
but veiled, a magician's blindfold.
i wanted
to burn holes in the darkness,
see through the satin
that always curled against
the frosted ice of your skin
(brushing smooth against my pupils).

when you spoke,
i knew no words,
but flirting vibrations that
tangled and nestled within the hollows
of my body.

you never hid,
and because of that,
i never knew
if anything was real,
or if you were hiding all the time.

just once,
or maybe just when those
currents of drawling despondence
shook the wiring of my heart

i wanted a knife, or maybe
just to use my hands
to rip into your shadows and
see if you would laugh
(would you leak liquid glass?)
or if you'd scream
and bleed.