Emily Franklin

Here we are. I’m half-sober and you’re stamping
                on a cigarette like it killed the last person you

Here we are. Outside the party. No stars. Only street lamps.
                                Talking about other people’s
                                                tragedies to avoid
                                                                our own truth.
                                                And you love me.

In a push you up against the wall kind of way.

                                In a put my tongue in your mouth kind of way.
                You say.
                                Your tongue is sharp,
eyes spark.

I am going to paint you something beautiful.
                                I tell you.
                And you leave me outside in the dark.

I am painting you the darkness.
I will paint in the stars.

Aquarius: Stop running away.

You’re at a concert. Music flashing, bodies pulsing.
                                This darkness. It hides within bursting
                                                lights, your screaming friends.
                This could be something beautiful.

You text me.
                I want to drown you in milk.
                                Peel away the innocence like the shell on a snake.

                And I love you. And I want to bathe you in honey,
                                wash your feet in my hair.

Aquarius: Everything will be okay.

Here we are. At the edge of a roof. Why do I always
                                                seem to meet you
                                in moonlight?

I am painting the lines between the stars
that join the abyss in meaning.
I am painting you.

       my horoscope,
                my lucky stars.
You are always too far away.

Aquarius: Breathe.

Here we are. The high street, to long after
                                the lamps have turned on.
                And you are close enough to touch.
                And you are still too far away.
Here we are.
                                The only thing left that we haven’t tried.
We are meeting in the middle.
                                Constellations colliding.

Here we are.
                                Silhouettes in your kitchen,
                                shadows on your stairs.
We are painting in the stars.

Sagittarius: Everything is okay.

The stars tell us nothing.
The stars are merely pretty.

You are my abyss.

You are boundless.
And nothing can hold you down.