Untitled (for now, seeing as I am not so great with titles)

I want to be the lip you bite down on when your nerves curl you in like the edges of an aged photograph.
In the wine-dark thickness of the room your girlhood grew up in we nested like herons.
On and on, until the sun birthed in us, the gaping dawn a blooming flower.

A flower:
Dried in my windowsill,
A moment caught, plucked from inevitable decay
And the progress toward,
Pressed flat between heavy words from "zeitgeist" to "zenith".
A snapshot of a first kiss:
Two girls loving frantic like ants to sugar.
I am a sweet tooth, a molar at the back of an unhinged aching expectant jaw.
You are so many daisies in a chain, gathered together in a bird's beak for home.

And then –
An inhale: a swallow diving down my throat.
Hungry for air, I am famished, salivating as though rainfall was born in the roof of my mouth.
Nourish me, please.

Let's feast.
I will peel one hundred pomegranates, dark red fruit-flesh under my fingernails. I will not wash my hands: leave the sticky stains for later so I can remember the color of your lips.
And I will feed you the seeds.
And we will grow new mysteries in the pits of our stomachs, archival fruits that know old names
For love that we will never learn with our tongues.

Leave me with the gauzy pallor of your cheek:
And I will blend paints from an infinite palette.
And I will count your eyelashes with an abacus.

Sing songs of the softest silver spikes and the densest and heaviest cotton.
Sing songs sticky like pumpkin innards.
Sing songs as gentle as virgins braiding hair with their avian fingers.
Sing songs as loud as your touch, loud as the moment all my blood vessels opened and electricity coursed through my veins and filled me full-to-bursting. 

And I can promise you this: I will wrap you up in blankets of refrains and choruses.
And I can promise you this: you will have whole swimming pools of paper scraps frantically scrawled for you to dive into.
And I can promise you this: I will lay with you until your fever breaks, rubbing ice cubes on your chapped lips.
And I can promise you this: I will hold your hurt like a wish buried in the earth, sacred somethings for safe keeping.

Show me your spine. Lay it down like a ladder for me to climb in and find you.