There was an earthquake at his core.

A warm, beautiful crack in his porcelain skin.

The fracture stretched from wilting lips

To the sultry caress of midnight breeze

Between his arms.

 

They destroyed you so far

You could not hold the rose

Blossoming within.

They tore at your throat and your tongue

And scratched your teeth to the gravel

I tasted in your stare

Until you could not breath without them.

 

. . .

 

He had a smile that pulled until it bled.

And it was all mine.

Every.

        Single.

        Drop.

But it was never me

You meant to break.

 

I waited all these years to walk under

The same sun,

To bleed the morning dew

Under your skin.  

You never saw the fracture under my lips.

Of a lilac hue, bedside secrets caught the drops

Of aridity you called your love.

 

A broken sun,

You burnt until you bled

And washed the Bleeding Hearts

Away.