When all our spiteful

okay’s and alright’s

twist their bodies

into a little gold band,

where are we going to store

the new ones?

Today I heard that

somewhere in the world

there’s a giant vault, filled to the brim

with diamonds.

And that the only reason diamonds

are worth anything at all

is because these important people

made this important rule

that they can only release

a very small number of diamonds

each year.

So, I think I am going to stop

telling you your teeth shine

like diamonds

and say 

i’m glad you

are not a rock.

and that,

if there is some vault, somewhere,

filled with you’s,

I’d really like

to go there.

-ck

It’s not that I only love the characteristics of you that are red.

It’s just that, when parts of you become red,

(whether by irritation 

blooming of heat beneath your cheeks

the volcanic activity of

separated skin

friction or

swelling, scratching,

pressure, sunlight,

chemical combinations of emotional magma and 

exquisite outpours of liquid, stone flesh.)

Yes, 

I see then, when you are red,

that your heart beats

much like

mine.

-ck