Do I dare bleed these words
without cauterizing them first, 
peel back my skin
until what lies within
a splintered bone of pain
juts from the core of me
stabbing that swollen moon?

A sack of abandoned faith

sits on my dresser 
next to the photo of you.
Your fire died,
and still I lie under a sagging sky 
your eyes to materialize.
I am in love 
with the wraith
of a memory.

My warrior wanders

the edges of my dreams
his steel gaze sawing 
through the bars of my ribcage.  
He purses his mouth like a question
always asking, “Yes or no?”
Cold in my bed, 
I pray for you, and
instead he 
comes to me
with tender hands
until I finally see
he was always 
the one.

“Yes.”  I breathe,

letting the blade of his desire
cut me.
The steps I take toward him
are the closest I have come 
to dancing
since you gutted me 
with your song.
I long to sleep always
with the answer of me
curled into the warm 
question mark
of his body.

Again and again,

I have shuffled through men
like a deck of cards
wanting one to match you,
but he has stilled my hands
by being something truer 
than that
a pure animal spirit 
from them

or you.

Three times now,

I have soaked
in the soft under his hard,
probing his skin 
until his secrets surfaced 
in the fluttering of his breath.
His last kiss
drew a “yes” from my bones.  
You are my memory.
He is my now.

The door opens.

Abandoning a vow

I made to a man
who never saw me,
I walk toward 
my warrior,
kneel to drink
from the cool pool
of his dreams,

to taste his tongue.

His mouth has become my mercy.
His marrow has swallowed my bones.