She is lying on my collarbone.

Her drool, sweat, tears,

they stick to my skin when I hold her.

I run my fingers down her aching spine,

realizing that the curving road is infinite.

The room is filled with shame,

when she apologizes dearly,

I don't speak, nor hear a thing,

I can merely see a constellation,

assembled by her flaws.

Then she kisses me.

Her lips, raw from the cries,

leave a stain of red on mine;

a bloom of warmth against my skin.

Drool, sweat, tears, blood - I am certain, I have never loved her more.

forgetmenot