Ichor & Ink

lying on the front of your car at 2am 
the night heavy around us and air thick with summer sweetness 
your cherry cola beading perspiration 

you turn your head to me and whisper,
i think i felt something wrong 
take my hand and place it over your heart 
cherry cola balanced dangerously on the slope of your car 
i feel, hand seeping warmth through the sweat-damp fabric of your shirt
and when i withdraw with reluctance, it comes away stained gold

oh, you say, surprised, that's not right. 

we must have shifted somehow
because the guts of your cherry cola are staining the gravel, tipped and spilled 
and i can smell the sweetness of it 
rising in the summer air 
the night turned sticky with artificial syrups and sugars

and we are drunk on the gold spreading fast across your chest
you bring my hand back to the place where your ribs meet 
and the shimmer drips down my wrist
my fingers turned to gold 
you are bleeding it and your veins have turned to glitter

i ask, does this make you a god 

and you tell me, no
and you tell me, it makes me holy. 

and it burns and burns and burns 
i scream, but the gold climbs up my arms 
and bathes my tongue in silence.

The End

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