If My Voices Were Lovers

Hang your lips on mine
Like the physical heat between us
Could melt us together
And make us one.

Meet my gaze
With the fierceness of two Alphas
Readying to tear each other to pieces,
The melancholy song of a whippoorwill on a quiet summer night,
And the hospitality of one's most agreeable sidewalk bench
Or nights lost to youthful anguish
When nowhere you knew
Feels like the home
You so deeply covet.

Trace my jawline, my collarbones,
My sweet spots grown desolate
As if I were dying before you
And the sensations of such pleasures
Could draw a map on my skin
With your fingers
Of my souls deepest anthems and pilgrimage

Out of the shadows
And nestled into a new born world
Where I leapt from a spinning, sliding trip of madness
Wearing alternate realities from a glass dressing room
Where each new revelation sprang with more indignation
And raw, unapologetic volume.
Forever screaming my "poor me"s and lessons learned in the fire
As if the illusion of a mountaintop sermon
from the lips of a sociopath
gone light and rogue
Could be evidence enough
That I am everything I said I am
And so, so much more.