Harmony.

It was harmony; the way the air seemed to crumble
at our feet, and it was all too thin for our lungs to breathe.
We slept through thunderstorms and let the rain soak us down,
shivering and sparking in the light of the steel and glass gears
that wind us around the clock that never-ends in never-land.

The piano's teeth are jagged and cracking,
but, Christ, the songs you play make me want to dance--
Like a firefly trapped in a romance with the zap light;
it's deadly and electrifying, even as the leaves turn and fall.

Can you smell my flesh burn every time I brush your ribs?
Soft mews and whimpers fill the atmosphere with dead air,
my face buried in your hair, heart's pounding to the rhythm
of instrumental riffs and beats; the most subtle glow
forming from the white of your skin and the blue of your eyes.

I could melt into the floor and never think the less of it,
content to dream in the idea of a light less perfection,
the feeling is irreversible and we'll always have this,
even as I scream in your ear and cover your shoulder
with the tears of a broken spirit; we thrive.

Your weary, sleepy eyes make for an aquarium to
lull me into an easy death, so let's slip into unconsciousness
and breathe into each other's necks until the morning light
forces us to start our perfect harmony all over again.