untouchable

of hips, and lips, and lime.

I wasn't playing hard to get.
There wasn't any time.
Your temple was impossible.
Your vices were all dry.
And just because you wanted me
now I'm on the line,
loving for eternity.
And you have changed your mind.

The red dress of intentions
is rotting in the light.
My holy men are packing up
and marching through the night.
I spoke such poisoned sacraments
to satisfy my pride,
and watched the mirror swallow up
each spark I couldn’t bind.

A phantom choir of lovers sit
and brew their bitter wine.
They whisper in this cheap motel
of hips, and lips, and lime.
In every dance, you bear your throat
a bear trap by design,
then float above the sticky floors
to better catch the light.

I once clasped calloused hands upon
the altar of your spine
and thanked the cruel, forgotten gods
that let our stars align.
You walk in velvet majesty,
untouchable and wild,
and I stay honored by the ache
of being so beguiled.