heavens nectar

he is almost divine in the literal sense
god-adjacent heaven-born with nectar lips
and a golden heart

his swift-footed grace
your swift-falling heart
the star-filled sky lit up like a song called fate

it is hard to tell where gazes stop and touches start
(and oh- even his pulse is quick)

the gods take what they will but this
this is yours alone and all the
prayers melt into his collarbones like rain

sometimes his eyes are storms and his
rage is rather disquieting
but this is what happens when you bottle up
the sun and use it as a candle:
it burns

he makes you better and he makes you forget
for all the holy exhales and altars of ‘always’
you are but mortal lovers in a gods’ war

—  we were like gods (except for the blood rushing through our veins)