It
falls like cold
on
the desert;
like
poured coins,
and
fits in your hand
like
a seashell, with a song you can hear, if you hold it up to
your ear
It turns sunbeams
into
daffodil sauce,
writes
your name in the sky
with
alphabet soup (minus a couple of letters)
and
loves you better
than Jesus, but without the sacrifice
You weren’t born
to
be a shotgun,
you weren’t made
to
be a knife;
you
set yourself on fire
when
there’s nothing left to burn, but you can't
put down the match
It
fits in your hand
like
a desert.
Runs its finger over
your lips and says hush, and you do.
You
fall like a girl
who
once
was
a rainbow.
It
gives you a soft Judas kiss. and you shudder, because it feels perfect
cowritten