wanted just as you are,
believed just as you are,
but would never once
let me be set in stone.
You'd rather examine from
a place of cold calculation,
cutting into the angles
you thought went unexamined,
even when such surgical perception
became a dangerous beacon to us.
We clung to the signals sent
from unidentified stations,
editing epilogues to soften aftershocks,
the only reverberations that remain
Where you once stretched and shaped me
until I fit your specific heart,
until I learned how to be
this replicant of what you wanted.
It's different for you,
wanted just as you are,
believed just as you are,
but could never once believe
that my air sang with your score,
my pitch never held your attention.
I loved the way your lips would unfold,
parting like a book filled with riddles,
covered in faded notes left
by those who couldn't solve you,
becoming bittersweet keepsakes
just beneath the skin and where
you drew lines that I already crossed.
I whispered one last message,
one that doesn't need to be
searched for within codes
or chambered like a bullet,
the final things I'll ever say
about and to only you.
Your beauty knew no measure,
I didn't examine it with numbers
or quantify it with exchanged dialects,
but I was measured by wounds,
by guarded punctuation.
You made me feel like candlelight,
flickering and naturally warm,
but existing as a temporary glow,
a radiant souvenir to summon
and simmer in your darkness.
The flame contoured to you,
sometimes in the shape of a bullet,
sometimes in the shape of a kiss,
lips puckered near your heart,
where I knew doors that rarely opened.