Immortality

  She painted galaxies upon her skin.
Telling stores of years old kisses
resting deep within her marrow.
Her body, shaped with dirt and fireflies
was sutured together by birds with teeth

 A dark eyed oracle, whispering dead blood languages in her sleep.
Dancing in fields of silk sheets and disfigured fingerprints,

As she tried to forget the perverse needs

Of nothing more than mortal men.

Muse

 She corrodes star shapes into
the hearts of sleeping poets,
slowly, methodically.

Whiskey

She devoured my heart in one slow,satisfying gulp.

I heard it plunge into the gaping emptiness of her.

She drank the sun from my fingertips, licked me from her lips,

And said

"Rose petals look better dead,plucked from your November pores."

I cringed.
"They go down smoothest with Writers Tears."