Dear Danny Meshnik, who called me faggot as a joke and who I never told I loved.

We are like a secret tangled in yellow acacia; you are better than I am and I better than you.  

I am art and you a painter, I may be pretty to look at but you make everything beautiful

And so cupid looked down under soft eyelashes, notched his arrow into an  ivory bow

hit me square between the eyebrows like a kiss, blindingly gentle

But I am stronger than that, and I’ve lived longer than that, and so cupid saw it through,

he grabbed another from his quiver, shot into my left lung, left me unable to breathe since

When I look at you I go dumb but it's the kind of dumb where when you smile

I think nothing and everything all at once and that's a religion within itself so i have to ask, carved into the bough of a willow tree, written out in cursive

Did you dip your hands in golden paint and have them thrice blessed?

Because you held my hand last Tuesday and I swear I felt a god subdued in your palm

Let me kneel by your feet forever let the chains around my ankles and around my wrists

rust my skin green, our love isn’t over-sweetened, our love is crystal clear

It goes down easy like water and stirs like wine

is that why I feel drunk on the blue that floats around your pupils all the goddamn time?

We are a porcelain bathtub filled with rosewater standing on clawed feet

but I think the water may overflow, I think I’d better let this rusty ball and chain hold me back

I think if I was to ever know what your eyelashes on my skin felt like, it would end me

With last breathe I’d plead: have your crooked saint bless my body golden, wrap me in yellow acacia, you are better than I am and I am better than you