The Beautiful Mistake

Holding a lit cigarette between my middle and index fingers

I utter your name from through these cracked lips.

Blood runs from the inner corner of my mouth,

Pale, long fingers caress your silhouette.

We are an art form.

A slow tune blown up

And we feel obliged to sway our hips back and forth

To the sound of breathing held back.

We are red hair, and black teeth,

Threads of silk,

Violet whispers of sugary lies.

We are lazy eyes in the morning,

Cautious tip-toeing in the noon,

And red hand prints in the dead of night.

We are stolen kisses,

And stolen dreams,

And stolen hearts,

And broken hearts,

And we are etched into the universe.

(As much as we'd like to forget.)

Satin dresses of blue and green

Are reminders of classy suits and haughty smiles

Are reminders of empty rooms and darkened kitchens.

Secrets told by hand cupped around ear

Evade the both of us.

Glossy red lips and hooded eyes

Tear away my skin

And in replacement

Bathe me in the soft touch of acid.

I am aching to touch you,

And I am aching to touch him.

Just as you are with her.

But in the promise that we share—

We return in the quaint hours of the day

To feed one another

And offer faint words.

But we both understand,

When we kiss each other goodbye,

That the tears that dribble onto our cheeks

Are not of apology and regret,

But are because of the silver chains that hold us together.

Brand new Pubber as of June 2016