Week 67

I'm a romantic
Even if I don't want to be.
I was created to be a creature of love.
Why else would my eyebrows
Be so dark,
My eyes so big and round
So deep that everyone who
Looks for even a second too long
Falls deep Into the well,
The walls
As old
As the oldest trees on Mars.
Why else would my hair curl
Down my back
And frame your face
As I lean down to kiss you,
To envelope your lips
Your tongue
Your mouth with my own
Drawing yourself out with every breath
I take.
"Come to me, trust me, be with me,"
Every touch of mine
Whispering those words in your cold dark ears.
You see I was forged
By the distant boiling stars
To wake you up,
Shake you up,
Breathe life into your brittle bones,
Into your tender sides,
Into your spiny crustaceous heart.
"I'm a romantic," I whisper
Into your tiny body
Curled up into me,
Desperately seeking a love
You need but cannot give,
That you will never be capable of.
Don't worry,
I'm a romantic,
I knew that already.