I asked, who is afraid of blood?
You said, every fear is a fear of your own blood.
Not the blood I draw from your tongue, though,
when I need to love you as hard as my heart thumps.
Your rib cage, presenting in shadows and crests
reminds me of how our nights and days blend together
and I press my ear up to those ripple wave bones
and hear a faraway heart.
I wish you rattled like I do.
Unlike our spilling through day and night,
hot skin from hot air is a stark contrast to cold sheets illuminated
only by blue gray skies,
at the time in Spring when somehow darkness spills in
as light would.
I say I cannot wait for summer
I cannot wait for tomorrow.