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He's infuriatingly...

pretty...

and I follow myself over his smile to find my eyes, promising uncertainty and chewing on
my bottom lip with the hunger that resides in...

love...

He rolled me over and kissed my dreams, his mouth became my salvation and I nailed myself
to the bedpost as we made love, my legs became morning while I screamed midnight to the
dawn...

and I had never seen such a beautiful sunrise, I had never seen the beginning color herself so
strangely...

I told him, as our eyes appeared shallow, as the light dimmed and he breathed summer on my
neck...

“Blue is blue, Dear, don't try to shade it with red.”

But he explained to me the art of bruises, he informed me the results were beautiful, and
he held up a mirror to my unmarked skin, places where the black and blue and...

purple...

has dissipated...

while he sheltered my chest with his hand, covering my heart with his palm, and told me
the results still beat...

in.me.

I cried, tears of the rain that once fell in April, and he held me, time slipping between
us, beads of sweat that spoke eternity and seven more months, and I spoke silently so he
could hear me, I whispered his name...

“God, you're beautiful,” he said on the second I realized the sadness had left me, that
she had found content and was studying the games we never played with the fascination of a
child, I touched his cheek with the surreal movements that occur when one has fallen and
been caught and smiled at the thought of us...

I sacrificed my pain that night, I handed it straight over to midnight when the day broke,
I blended the sunrise with blue and watched the sky turn purple with him right beside me,
I counted the minutes to eternity and he laughed at my obsessions as he told me I was...

beautiful...

as he drank my belief off my left shoulder with a kiss...

and I looked at him, in the light, my eyes deep with the memories of the sea, as I kissed
him, with a certainty I never questioned as tomorrow started forever...

and he would live inside me
for seven
more
months.
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