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With her arms crossed


With her arms crossed behind her back
trapped in a pillowcase,
she was a candle in the night

“Write a poem on me” she said
and I obeyed, very carefully
First, with my lips, then
with my tongue, I wrote
slowly on her canvas
while she held me with her eyes –
eyes that spread out like branches
touching the biggest stars

More luminous than the evening,
I tore the night to pieces
and dipped into her soul
“Be gentle” she whispered with a sigh,
like a soft flower to the moon
while I continued to contemplate the fire,
burning her secrets with my desire

With my lips replete with her kisses
and her breaths breaking on my skin to the sound of grace,
she bit my shoulder, and pulled me up from the depths of the earth
to the sun blazing in her body

I pressed her cheek against the pillow
and watched her melting, with every thrust
The sheets, wet and swollen,
wild with dreams

She whimpered, crying
tears of the moon –
yet she was glowing

We died that night
We died that night

when I sank
into her arms
and drowned,
she held my hand
to the other side
of life.