In between your shoulder blades
a knife and a kiss fit,
in between us, there is this morning,
like a deep dark river.
Yesterday, I have split apart
your mouth with my tongue,
and still, you stayed with me,
much too long, hour upon hour.
Only those being faint-hearted
kill love by words alone.
For a knife, it needs a hero,
and I can't be cowardly.
I have struggled hard with you
as I slept with you yesterday.
burnt into my shoulders
is your sign, deep and red.
And still, you sleep like an angel,
like a toy you're laying there,
beneath the cursed sheet,
and I feel peculiar
(because I'm too close to you).
Only those being faint-hearted...