Wild Places.
Carve your name upon a marble heart
a testament of time
when fidgeting hands will scratch initials into veins that bleed
dripping ink
till the fields flow red with desire

because when eyes grow dim and the light fades out
the skies will shine like a map made of diamonds

yet my eyes squeeze shut and my breath will give out

because as long as it has been since I last saw your face

the innocence in your eyes is so hard to erase.