Terracotta heap

These are the words
If I was heart-dizzy, then I meant them;
you can write them on your grave.

This decay devours the silence
growing fat on all these undisclosed wishes.
Burst, lyse, upside-down, fill this space.
Keep locked behind this distance
and the glowering windows.

Yellow light knows my hesitation
yellow light that shivers in the glass
if I ever looked outside
of this glass place of mine I'd see
every word you wrote for me.

You built a city from guts and iron bolts,
worked it hard and nearly choked yourself with dust.
Your magnum opus, a manuscript that speaks from you to me.
Yours is the hammer and mine is the spade.
It only takes one doubt to undermine all you have made.

The door of my heart
flaking paint, empty walls
little window, shattered wood
A place that won't flush.
Singing rust, creeping fungus.
In your eyes
pristine tiles
metal bars
Scalpel-sounds.

It was you who I wanted to consume, all along.
City gates, flood gates, yellow light washing
City light, pretty light, eat me up,
I'll fly if I need to, with you on the top floor
like the peak of an ugly mountain.