(no subject)

[iniquiticity]

I am made of bullets; shrapnel.
You are solar flares
and soft lips -


better creatures could love you, I know.
But now they’ll have to
get through
me.

my love should wear a warning sign, damn right I remember you |e.j.|


You scream, waking from a nightmare.

When I sleepwalk
into your room, and pick you up,
and hold you up in the moonlight, you cling to me
hard,
as if clinging could save us. I think
you think
I will never die, I think I exude
to you the permanence of smoke or stars,
even as
my broken arms heal themselves around you.

galway kinnell