For The Record

i spill these thoughts because i have to:
i placed you alongside beauty
alongside cold shadows
on winter sandstone,
alongside the knife-like sun
under the glass skies
where birdsongs
and girly cries gather.

i placed you near my books
piled beside romance
and ancient hopes,
scraps of poems
and the music of my heroes,
i put you up there
on my wall
where great men stare
upon my sleep,
and where ghosts wait
for my flames.

i placed you at my pillow
and fed you a dream
where i whispered and joked
and shades of gold gleamed.

Now i keep you buttoned
to my tongue,
housed in a burst of song,
a choked damsel
locked in my mouth,
where your taste always belongs.