the boy with no heart.Black hair, the colour of your soul it often seems. It kisses your skin, stretched taught over your bones, your beautiful bones. Your eyes are blue, but not deep and passionate like the ocean. They are a pale sky on an icy day, cold and harsh but none the less beautiful. For the longest time I thought they were grey, for people like you surely cannot have beautiful eyes. A scar resides in the centre of your chest, slowly healing. Pink and fascinating. You say you found your love for me the day they delved into you with knives. I wonder what they found beneath your porcelain skin. Was there a heart beneath your blackened, smoky lungs? Was there something beautiful trapped in that ivory ribcage? I bet your bones are perfect, like the rest of you. I know every inch of your skin, yet I still dont know the truth of whats inside. I wish your past was as beautiful as you. I wish I hadnt fallen in love with a boy with no heart. But I hope that mine can fill your empty chest.
Im waking up to usEyes flutter open, slowly emerging from the blanket of dreams wrapped around me. I register fingertips dancing gently across my skin, barely there. A spirit of a touch that sends shivers down my spine. Your eyes on mine, my body, my face. I love the kisses that never touch my lips, just float over my body. Smile as you realise I am awake enough to register these peacefully silent moments. My arms around you and we twist together as if we are one. I can hear your heartbeat, the sound I have centred my existence around. Running my fingers along your skin, so pale it almost glows in the flickering light of the television. I memorise every last centimetre of your skin, running butterfly kisses down your chest, hips, ribs. I love the very bones of you. Right down past your porcelain skin to your beautiful ivory bones.