My Thoughts - 2am Sunday Morning Poem by matthew lyon

I could stay inside you all day
and never venture out
ignoring the rain tapping on the window
as I splash about in your puddles

our diamante flesh
rocking in harmony
like words over music

a river running through us
like thoughts from my pen

the bed blushing
as we burn
like pages on a fireplace

your lips, full
emptying me

losing my hands in your violin hair

blood rising in our milk-cheeks
like cerise roses blossoming through snow

open bodies behind closed curtains
for hours and hours
of ours and ours
in this world of theirs.