It’s not that you’re a diamond
because they’re common, and crushed
to death. You’re alive and fizzing with it.
You’re innocently nuclear with
grins I could bottle and could, would, might have
become addicted to.
I write a lot of poems.
But it’s not often i’m proud
of a human soul, to know them,
to suck at the marrow of your intellect
like I’ve been starved, and i really have.
I had stomach pains for a lack of stimulation
and my ribs played xylophone rhythms for a
mind in sync with the time and the fine fine line
between morality and logic. And how can you blame me,
for wanting to eat you whole whilst i have the chance
watch the light of your eyes dance glittering
you’re smiling so bright. Like sunlight
on the spine of the moon. Whenever you go,
it’ll be too soon.