your love haunts me in a bed of white
where your body lies, unmoving. your soul,
the flickering flame of a lighthouse, that burns
like a matchstick--threatening to give out
(and i’m so scared, so scared)
because i was born with death in my lungs
causing the yellow sea that cradled
the boat of ribs-- 'the protector of my heart',
to burn at the sound of my wailing cry.
you see, i’ve been cursed with breathing
ghosts into this world. origami folded
reminders that hang from my tired lashes,
whispering about the tragedy of my hands
(and the curse of my touch)
but let my touch, burn you awake; let these lungs
breathe you back to shore. i might be cursed,
might be condemned to walk side by side with death
but i won’t let the shadow of my love, consume you
i pray to a god who has written me off, to the devils
who have bartered for my soul to sit on a throne of
midnight--i beg all who may pity the desperation in my veins,
that you might hear me as i cry into the night
(W A K E U P!)
let the entire world be haunted, but no--
i won’t let them make a ghost out of you