The Starry Night of Flames

From a dream-like love I’m finally waking up, my breath still hot from your kisses that stamp my mind. You plague my dreams like corruption plagues our economy mercilessly. Although I rather think you corrupt me too. 

The sticker of blame fades from my eyes, when you hand me the paint brush to bring color into my world. When you make the inferno of it all a piece of art. While my heart strings knot around your body, tugging at your vessel of love, you’ll drag me through fire and hell, calling it the Starry Night of Flames. My body, limply sagging behind yours is tired, it is so tired, but that lying fire burning blue around me feels like a twin flaming love. Corruption as I said. 

Like a man holding a scalpel to a corpse laid over a metal table, you hold both the scissors to my strings and the easel for my paintings. But as that last string of hope ties me to you and my paint drips from your hands, as you surrender your last bit of love, I’ll thank your smile for reminding me what a pulse is. And when you finally flip that coin and decide if you’ll keep dragging me along, I’ll hope I’m on both sides. If I only get one more dance in my dreams, one more kiss, I want it to be with you because I’m still terrified of waking up alone. I’m terrified that once your smile fades from my dreams, I’ll disassemble. When your kisses no longer heat my breath, I’ll come undone. When your heart no longer yearns for me, I’ll shatter. From that dream-like love, I’ll hope you dance with me just once more, twirling me like a marionette while my strings are wrapped around your fingers. Corrupt me because it’s the only way my heart knows how to keep beating. 

MSkye:
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