Disha

I’ll send you my heart:

attach it to satellite waves and the royal post office.
And on the creases of your dusky palms I will chart
your bloodstream like a map, but I’m still a novice.

We are the ones without faith (without grace);
I swear by the smile lines I will carve into your countenance
that God is the place
Where we’ll entangle in the rawest form of dance.

At nights, when we are wrought from flames, you tell me you’ll kiss me:
sniper-shot, right between my brows
For years we are trapped like moths, separated by the sea
All I do is listen to your music, and dream of our future house.

I wrapped myself in skins and I told my mother that if I believe in one thing
(just one thing) I believe in her; in our future of rain and books and coffee rings.
♠ ♠ ♠
About the most genuinely romantic thing (which involved minimal grotesque imagery) I've written. Wrote it for my (now) ex.