Shall I be more for you,
than warmed skin in the dead of night,
caressing deep blue oceans
that are only visible in the sky.

Taste me,
bittersweet symphony of sweat
that pools where ribcages dip
and soft valleys are met.

Shall I be this dance we are all
too scared to commit? scarred
into thinking that this is it.
So we must chose the best.

Chosen, a word meant so little
in a world that confuses it with decision.
Is this all I am to become,
impassioned wordings of those too scared to cum.

Am I this moment,
described by adjectives that represent something,
yet we forgot the meanings
when we failed to navigate future headings.

Heedy breaths, condensation seeping into sheets
as our bodies press deeply for absolution.
Bastardizing all that we are together,
so the exception can be made.

And made it shall be, with twisting
knives that drive deeply for release,
begging to spill over so the end can
find its way through shaking fingertips.

We raped the best of us
So we can live peacefully as the sky brightens
and the stars die from belief.
Sated, until the next chosen breathes.