romeo and juliet was never romantic

if god is real he lives in your eyes. i worship you at the altar that is your body and i offer you my beating, bleeding heart as a promise to follow the scripture written in the wrinkles of your hand. you picture me like this in your mind because you want me to be the way you think i am. and the truth is i am anything but that. and it does hurt. it hurts more than anything in the world, because i know you want me for the things i pretend to be. stained glass windows and rose colored glasses. all the green looks dull through the lenses. the sun is rising and i think of shakespeare and dissected brains and the pulse of hearts as my eyes shut and i fail for the hundredth time.

i wanna be the picture in your locket. xo, clandestine.