Unknown.

Do you need me to be subtle for
the sake of poetic salvation?

I risk my heart on fire for
a second more of your words,
of your breath wasted on my
lost cause. I jump and lay
down against the dawn, far more
preocupied for what's to come,
you only ever touched my palms
but it felt like home, such a
utopian notion making ashes
of my past, eyes wide in awe
of the broken reverie. You heal
with violent waves, salt on
wound if I ever believed in this.
Reach and touch for something
too well hidden and dark inside
of you, I knew I'd seen it before,
so clear in my reflection against
the morning light, showing back
both our lost sense of pride and time.
Like liquid only to re-tame the flames,
I've seen what doubt makes of desire,
and I've seen how secrets kill the fire,
I ask of you to hold tight onto my
skin, drag me with you, I'll take you
higher, if only to keep us awake.

Have you understood what it means
when I ask you to hold your breath?

It might end too soon, I might be
gone tomorrow, your warmth is leaving
the side of me you always stand so
close to, and my fingernails cling tightly
to my skin, drawing blood if need be.
Bide for your words slowly and deadly,
knowing how much their sense costs you
I unravel what it's left, only nodding
and with whispers putting colors on your
tongue, my lips tremble from the cold.
We fought for our patterns, we figured
out our language and created maps
with the rest of our denials. Your hands
fall heavy onto our future, ripples of
our mistakes painting frowns of yesterdays,
you plead, not wanting to be like those
stories of loss, and I stay, we know there's
something left, undone, and unsaved.
So I know I need, I pray, but for the
life of me, don't turn to black and gray
or swallow the water and dry up your eyes,
you know very well I'll stay, just as much
as the rough lines of your hands have
kept me whole to this day. We're both
too strong, too lost to stay away.

Did you need to hear me say it?

Nothing has changed, I'm standing
close to the flame, burn us slowly,
you feel it, standing skin to soul.
From our brain to our flesh, we
have made it far the dead line of
their ghosts, ask the knowing, they
will say they see no familiar
faces, no undead to say hello to.
Clear the ink with blood from my
fingers, I have gained no answers
of the truth, and I have made you
see no more than what you wanted to.
Peel back the layers, I'm still me
and you're still you, far from
the grasp of their voices, we carry
our own weights, still too young
to say if we belong anywhere else
than this moment, this you, this me.
I'm done with the subtle shade of
indesicion, your wounded skin can have
my scars, my freckles on your eyes,
the echo of your breath running in my mind,
that is it, I need nothing more from
this, nothing to quiet my heartbeats,
drilling both our feet into the ground.

We have learned of the unknown,
poetic excuses to say what we won't.