garden of eden after the fall

why do we speak in gilded tongues, in fatalities? why is my rose garden incomplete without the bloodstains? i just want to be an infinity, pin the wings of angels between my teeth, braid the stars into a waterfall and live a little larger, a little lighter, a little sparklier.

if you kiss me around the spring equinox, in the brimstone church where the sun is merely a breath away from the moon, then we get a chance at immortality. or something like that. there are myths coated in stardust that mirror our reflecting bodies.

are we not kinetic? did you not take the fall for me and create rain? winter was crocheted from the velvet lace of your heart, the first time you sobbed with your whole being, a twister hit Arkansas, the one day you forgot to say your midnight prayer, the world quaked beneath your feet. i claimed Eden’s garden after i accepted the apple from the witch. if the world ends tonight, it’s going to be because of you & me.

—  Won’t You Swallow The World Whole For Me, Dear? // j.r