Skin

I'm jealous of your neck That narrow porcelain plinth of flesh It gets to hold your head And I'd rather perform the task instead I'll use my hands You told me of your heart A cold tile cavern bathed in dark And earthy roots hanging from within To shed some light the fire must get in A searing pulse I'm a fever in your chest The burning sun I'm west I, I am too naïve (You, you are too naïve) Your lunar strands were lit in red and green A captivating scene A portion of myself was lost to me (A portion of yourself was lost to–) But I'm not dead (But you're not dead) Just a harbour no one's in An empty salt filled skin