he saw right past the hickey on my neck
and into my tearful violet eyes.
he knew i still feared my own temperament,
full of a useless and everlasting hope.
we cared not that it was wrong
that i was taken by another man.
only the time we had left held
in our passionate whitewashed grip.
he was the moon from the night,
bitter and wanted and full of depth
yet i was tied to the morning sun.
i knew there was no way both
could fit in my pocket for keeps.
i didn't want to see an eclipse tonight.
instead i got a show of fireworks.
my throat felt winter frosted
and my hands were misplaced in his.
i knew there must be some taste of him
left in my always open mouth.
i'd rather he knew of the other,
for a sword drawn battle to erupt,
than for me to listen to him tell me
i'm something utterly wonderful.