you are a home to planets and stars; a splendid, perfect
universe beside your lovely bones and there are honey
bees resting quietly on your fingertips while your eyes
make the dust floating in this old room shine like snowflakes.

while all my eyes do is take this all in, and all my
fingertips touch are tiny grains of sand, and there's nothing
between my bones and flesh but spiders and ants - nothing there
but dry leaves crumbling - and this is all i can offer.

so i will give myself needles and inject my body
full of sweet ice wines, teardrops from teenage girls crying
while reading steinbeck novels, and sweat from the brows of

the bravest bullfighters - and then, i will be able to
hold your heart with my strong, slender fingers - so come to me
laughing and carrying flowers - i will be ready, love.

Moi, j'avais jamais rien dit. Rien

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