long haired child

Do you hear me lover? Do you know the night you told me you had a crush on my ears,
I swore to never to become Van Gogh. And look, baby, they’re both still there. Just like my firefly heart is still right there in your glass jar. I never trusted anybody more to poke enough holes in the lid. So, on the nights you sleep like a ballerina, I try to snore like a piccolo. And I press my lips to your holy temples and I say, “I crash in to things in the dark,” Even when the lights are on. And I am wrong more often than I am writing and, even then, I am often wrong… You will never lose me to the wind. You are the lightning that made me fill my chest with candles. You are the thunder clapping for the poem that nobody else wants to hear. You are an icicle’s tear watering a tulip on the first day of spring. You melt me alive. You kiss me deep as my roots will reach. And I want nothing more than to be an eyelash fallen on your cheek. A thing collected by your fingers and held like a wish. I promise, whatever I do, I will always try my best to come true…