Blue (Baby)

Your skin is sickly
Like conifers in summer
And sleet in March

Do you feel seasons
Twist in your kaleidoscopic veins
A shade for every girl

Who loves to plait
Your frozen blood in blue shades
Do the strands of your hair

Form grapevines
Where we listen to the secrets
Of your lungs burst

Whilst you breathe in a blue sleep
When you dagger our soily dreams
With over flowing seams

Breaking the plant
So as to snap its stem like liquor
With your icicle tongue

(He often speaks of highs in tents
Where its colder than his father’s chest
And warmer than his mother’s fingertips)

Your skin is a sick child,
Studded with brown bruised drugs
On your neck,

You kiss me like owners to their Bibles
But there’s nothing Jehovah about you
You laugh like sand in winter

And in autumn, tremble like cuts healing on arms,
You take a shot on my perplexed chest
And my underwear falls like a leaf

Michelangelo says you’ve ruined me,
But I can’t fix your naked approach to
Killing me,

With your discreet lips
Your skin is calcified meat,
On a slab you lie like a sickly calf

But I love you,
Like apples grow in June,
To the sound of watered geraniums,

And you beat your wings
Like a swan resting on the moon,
She giggles at your disposal of me,

You are Blue (Baby)
And you have a shade for every girl
That wants you.

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