on

I want to put my lips

upon your throat

and take your pulse.

Maybe I can tell

if your blood flows hot and thick as wine

or if it is cold as ice,

and caught upon the

snow drifts and ice flows of your life.

 

I want to settle your hand in mine

and read your palm like an open book,

pinpoint the line

where your future intersects mine.

 

These are my fairytales,

how I rock myself to sleep each night.

 

These are the shadows on the edge of my skull,

playing tricks on my mind.

 

Lies and illusions look all the same against a night sky.

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