If I knew now would be my last chance to see the sun I'd stare it down and leave the ashes of my retinas scattered on the ground. And if you are a mirror then the congruence of light reflecting back shines more radiant than when first from the starkness of pre-creation, pining splashed into vibration and sent the darkness writhing.
Your words feel to me like my own breath, they soothe me from my rest and if this was my last chance to hear your song I'd listen so loud I'd leave myself deaf. But if I could direct that affection back I would hold myself until I popped and all my pain came spilling out. Then I could kiss my tears and tell myself that I won't ever be alone, take all my burdens and cast them to the road to be buried and forgotten in the winter snow.
Your eyes fuel me full of lustful bliss and if this were our goodbye kiss my yearning would burn my lips to a crisp, my tongue would crumble to bits and my teeth would fall out with my spit. But if I just gave myself back a tenth, I'd leave myself ravaged and spent, my diaphragm dying to supply my lungs with some oxygen. My body would reel, I'd shudder and seize from a feeling that I've never felt. I'd ripen and heal, I'd blossom and peel and then I would melt.
My shield drops when you laugh at my thoughts and If I could only tell you one more thing my blood would thicken to clots, my stomach would turn into rocks, I'd tie my tongue up in knots, trap the air inside my throat and resign myself to tremble and choke. But if you're a mirror, a room full of mirrors, my echoes would bounce back the words from your glistening walls. "I love you!" They'd call. "If you feel trapped in a life full of fear I'll cut through your demons, I'll swallow them all!"
The last time I touch you I'll come wrapped in linen to hide the telltale rot of a leprosy victim, my fingers will shiver and lock in your grasp then release from the shackles of my empty hand but if you're going to leave you should take every piece or my palm will miss you and long for your company, drop from the wrist and never return to me. The rest I would shed like moth eaten threads, I'll unweave the tapestry hanging between the most beautiful thing I've ever seen and the part of me that can see it. And if ashes I would be for looking upon it, then burn me
