Cherry Syrup

In this body

I’ve stayed awake with you,

to see the sun rise

and the city ignited,

sparkling hangover brains

and liquor dry lips,

and in that moment I felt a softness and thought to take your face in my hands

to see your eyes when I told you I loved you,

but I never beg,

so I never did.

I’ve said my prayers in candle wax and chains,

kissed the salt earth and tasted sugar,

I’ve watched you go as night air climbs the window of the room

and spills in,

holding me in it’s arms to ask,

if it tasted like paper.

I’ve painted my stories in blood on these walls,

tied my sickness into cherry knots like a star,

upon the movie screen of black and white,

bare beneath these furs of absolutes,

watching like a corpse as the channels flicker and change.

I’ve seen the buildings all on fire,

and the country burn,

hot like liquid light and cherry syrup,

red like cherry cheeks and cherry guts.

And I’ve never been one for sweetness,

but lately I’ve developed a taste,

for things that melt in my mouth.

So in one last moment with you,

we’re quiet,

while we wait,

for the sugar to settle.

For the earth to crack,

and pull apart,

like cherry candy when it breaks

between my jaws,

like all the good people split and opened up,

down the middle.