the moon hums inside
its cold shell,
stars like a diamond necklace
pulled apart & tossed into
the night sky
by some haphazard skeleton hand;

swimming in the rich inky dark
intoxicated
i feel the urge to press my tongue
against the back of your neck
somehow already knowing
the lemon salt taste of your skin;
instead i dip my tongue
into the sweet bubbles of our
stolen champagne
(taken from your father's liquor cabinet)
to drown the vibrant passion
that plagues me,
that musky wood smell
that seduces whatever surrounds you;

i am careful to hold myself back,
staying inside,
that fear of being broken
when the trumpets fade.

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