The Fang Romantic

I like that you dream
Because I dance too
Between thinking and wanting
To tell

How much hell it is
To wake up
And want to call
Or call out and want to cry
Or cry out and want to be
Just be

Second letter
First word
Last key

When you bite into fruit
And note I will never
And you go back to the tree
Blind to try to find
The limb you left behind
So full of fruit
Finely hanging in the row
In the wind that rescinds
The seconds of evening
That dwindle by slowly
As if waiting for the next text
The next tome that takes you home
To me

Skating over water
Trapped over ice
Slip on the mirror
Scared to see myself
Under eyes that told me
Sold me from now to each tomorrow

That we are bitten