I held her hand with pink intent and crushed our knuckles into silver dust, ashes of something good and sweet. She lent her hair to mine in braids, evacuating tumbleweed portraits of our hearts through sweat soaked ceilings and windows cracked to let the firemen in
She broke off light-bulbs in her skin, carving out pockets to fit silver dust and seeds to be pollinated by my body, naked with pink intent, soiled over fucks to forget and move on
And after the blood has boiled over our beautiful pockets of flesh, I ground our knuckles in pestle and mortar. Please, please forgive me, but you're hurting me
Electricity in our lips press like carcasses, between our ribs we kiss where the moonlight's creeping in, swallowing soil and sacred pink intent
Please, please forgive me, but you're hurting me. I rolled down the window a little to hear the crickets wail
