If I wrote you a lullaby with verses of moonlit, fogged breath and a chorus of heartbeats- would you fall asleep with our melody in your palms?

I lie awake at night and watch traffic lights outside my window shout RED into the peace quiet and occasional hazy rev of traffic. I lie awake and shiver through layers and wish to silent stars it wasn’t winter, wish the nighttime cool wouldn’t paint quite so many goose bumps on my skin and make my eyelids so cold. I lie awake at night and night-dream without sleep- about you and all your eyelashes and beautiful wordings.

I like the way your collarbone lies horizontally beneath your neck, resting on light shoulders. God must have hidden it beneath your peach skin in a hurry, because with hurried hands he didn’t push it in quite far enough. I imagine him assembling you, I envisage your organs and elongated limbs before you were in a single piece, a mess-heap of portions and parts of beautiful. I would have liked to build you up myself, just to step back and inflatedly grin at my artwork.

I make a habit of closing my eyes before I come too close, your eyes send me into a dangerous euphoria and I’m the kind of girl to faint. I wonder if you notice, I wonder if you wonder if I notice the way you smile too often, don’t get enough sleep and eat too much sugar.

I write you love letters in my mind, and when I try to recite them, all I can do is speak cloudily with made-up words that mean things I can’t quite say; in awe of everything that is you, and everything that is possibly, probably, wishfully and longingly us.

If you were the moon I’d be nighttime’s navy breath in your craters. If you were the sand I’d be the rolling waves submerging every golden grain of you. If you were a heart I’d be the encasing ribcage and the hot blood in your arteries.  If you were a boy I’d be your lover.