Texts I Should Have Sent

I.

I want to drink the rich chartreuse 

from the depths of your eyes 

while waiting for the music to slow 

to the speed of your heartbeat.

II.

The altars in your bloodstream call to me 

as I kneel before you, 

ready to worship any sarcoline God that would 

allow me the sin of your sable.

III.

Your hands are curled vipers �"

 I know you can damage me but I trust you 

not to rip out my throat unless 

I beg you through this haematic haze.

IV.

The stripes of sacrosanct heritage 

run over the rise of your ribcage.

They curl close to the centre of you; 

let me follow them and learn you like music.

V.

Wrap a heavy arm around these shoulders; 

let me inspect those red licks turned white strikes. 

I will hand back the apathy you so sweetly 

gave to me if those titian ridges rise again.

VI.

A moment under the cathedral dome.

 I want to trace the shape of your soul under my fingertips, 

smearing the charcoal lines of you into a blur. 

I would apologise but you took my paper and smeared it crimson.

VII.

Two part rings spinning in opposite directions.

The metal snaps and the ink spreads dark over russet. 

I would ask you to let me sink and seep like that, 

but your skin would reject me.

VIII.

The virid gaze I have warmed to dances with the light 

and darkens when you hear the depths of the wolf howls.

IX.

Darling, darling, 

let me worship at shrines 

and burn these offerings under the belt of stars 

I dedicated to you.