Something fledgling, burning

Need that

cracks apart my skin

Already blistered by

the howling summer

winds outside

I cry out for you

but across the empty

streets and crackling heat

there is a silence

that screams aloud,

nothing like patience

but a lot like

love

(or something

like it)

and

A yearning for

the white-hot resonance

of voice that builds me up

up

up...

to the tops of my

tree-like bones.

Reaching and

screeching in the dark

for something

painfully real.

I want to give you that.

I'll give you all

of it,

but is that enough?

I am crumbling

beneath a pressure, desire

with

no name,

an ache with no

words,

only fingers and

tongue and

such perfect skin to hide in

and on.

(Might as well fall in)