Delete this if I die.

Delete this if I die.

Before she left I asked her,

“kiss me.”

What I wish I would have said was,

kiss me everywhere.

Kiss my eyelids
kiss my fingernails
kiss the the scars on my arms
kiss the part inside where my knee bends.
Kiss the marrow in my bones,

the air in my lungs,
and kiss the tendons that hold it all together.

I want your lips on every inch of me.
I want my body to be the hiking trails
for your mouth.
I want your lips to graze over my cellulite mountains
and my stretch mark rivers.

I want your tongue to read my goosebumps like braille.


Because your lips are the Sunday morning I spent in bed,

when I should have been in church.
Your lips are the moment lighting meets sand
to make the stained glass in the windows,

that I want you and I to shatter.

Your lips are the moment I forget to breathe.
And I want your lips them all over me.

You are a woman I really like
And by like

I mean your wind stripped the shingles off my roof.
And I thought your tornado to be sweet.
It ripped me apart,

but made the sound of a moth fluttering around a light bulb.
Your tornado tore my identity to shreds,
and it was better than heroin.

And if my friends knew,

I'd be burned at the stake.

But I don't give a fuck now,

because you have set me on fire.

Set me on fire, baby.
I want to be ashes spread across your bones.
Because I'd rather be ashes than to never know
what it was like to have your body on top of mine.

And I'm glad I do.