She has raven hair which suits her perfectly. It falls over her bronze shoulder and rolls over curve of her clavicle. The sheets are drawn tightly around her body, proof that she does in fact steal the covers, but every line, every curve and peak and valley of her perfect body beneath shows through the thin satin, so I make no attempt to retrieve them.  The morning sun lazily bleeds through the cracks of the drawn blinds as if it has traveled those million miles for the sole purpose of resting itself with her. The shadows don't seem to mind as they softly recede to the warmer underside of  her body. She is asleep and smiling. She always smiles in her sleep an I never fail to find it amusing. I can only imagine where such peace and happiness come from, but I like to imagine it has something to do with my being there. I move to get out of bed. She always seems to know when I am awake and as I am about to get up she stirs just enough to wrap herself tightly in my arms. This small gesture implying that she isn't ready for me to leave is my favorite moment of the morning and because of it I find a few extra moments to spend there.  Her hair falls all around me and the warmth of her breath skims across my shoulder. I move to get up. She sighs, smiles, tucks herself tightly within the sheets, and gives me an " I love you, Husband".  I tell her, " I love you, Wife." This is sort of a running inside joke, but in truth, I think we both just really like the sound of it. "Have a good day, babe. Can't wait till you get home to me," she half whispers as she falls back to sleep. I steal a kiss before she does, then close the door behind me. I pause for a moment on the other side more amazed than the day before at how truly fortunate I have become in a matter of only a few short months. I am more in love every day.  My heart will surely explode.

I've realized the things I chase can only lead me away.

I remember I considered myself clever.

My words and work and efforts were much more than meaningless.

I thought I could make the buildings,the city, and everything within them mine.

But I became suspended among the vapors within them.

As one of the abstract, I fell out of place in the ever changing potrait

And haunted the image we all, together, create.

May my failures and wanting be compressed into only a season’s lifetime,

dying gracefully so I can witness the red and golden tones of the sun rising through the city again.

Keep me unafraid when the light changes against the windows and on the skyline.

With the darkness retreating at my back, assisting the movement of the clouds in half-light, may any sadness be refused.

When my indifferent bliss has lost it's value,

I must prevent myself from living out my excuses.

She tells me she loves me.

I am

In flames.

For the first fifteen minutes in five years,

I forget that I am not fortuneful.

She is a brilliant star, racing across the dark.

One to chase and lead me away.

And everyday I am kissed the sweetest goodbyes I've ever recieved.

Though her sleeves concealed her sores, I could see the edge of a round, rose colored blemish protruding onto her wrist.  During our time together, on the day before, I could have sworn I smelled roses. At first I thought it might have been her perfume, but as the day grew warmer the scent was more that of decaying flowers. I know, now, that her pockets were most likely filled with the petals. By now, everyone knows that posies are no true deterant for the Plague, but every little bit helps, I suppose.  Her eyes are full of sadness and fear. I give my best effort to console, and at the same time, fear is enveloping my mind. I know she’s infected me as well. My sadness is that I will have to watch her fade first. My thought are of the horrid moment when I must lay her upon the pyle and set her body ablaze and the thought of my own corpse on fire, soon after, offers no comfort.  Through the window, I can hear a small voice singing the chorus.

“Ring around the rosies

Pocket full of posies

Ashes, Ashes

We all fall down.”

The convex nature of my eyes confusing my perception of your depth is both the excuse for and the root of my apology. I outstretched my hand, in hopes of grasping that something you showed with your smile to be attainable, and felt the air wash across my fingertips as you pulled away. In this moment, the disclaimer in my mind spells out the need for caution, as wants may often be farther than they appear. Intangible and perpetually fleeting, my desires have become as stale as two-day-old beer in which cigarette boats float about. And speaking them is harder than trying to screw the top back on. It would have been a fine time to fake a seizure to have felt your lips on mine. My liberties sought to abort my sanity, for fear of sleeping alone. I apologize, accept the stab to my back, revel in regret, mourning the moment you left me bleeding on the floor. It was my mistake, as I should obviously never have been so relaxed knowing a killer was standing in the room.

Between a rock and a bottle, a rope and a needle, confusion directs me three steps past the line drawn with your foot, which was erased, then drawn again, a pattern which has been repeated a thousand times over. All the time you spent crying wolf for a savior, now the wolf is the only one answering your call. The moon's full and I finished off the tranquilizers hours ago. Your red hood is no match. I know you'll never truly be ok, but things tend to work out right and if not right, towards compromise.  I’m pleased as piss to announce that gluttony is my giving tree. A crucifix never was as effective as a four-leaf clover anyway.  I would have settled for being laid like concrete if nothing else at all could have come of it.

And as I drift off tonight, I’ll rehearse the song I’ll sing for you on Friday and words will seem louder in my head than I'll want to shout them out.."At the right place, at the right time, I’ll be dead wrong and you’ll be just fine. And I won’t have to stop doing fucked up shit for anyone but me. And at the right place at the right time it was worth standing in line for you, my little devil, to know I’m alive."