Monsters of Men

gods and half hearts

You'll kiss me and blood

will be left on my lips. I'll

hate myself for it, because I

was never suppose

to be in love with a god. But you'll

run your fingers up my spine and

kiss memories on my

back. And I'll hate myself for it.

Because flowers will bloom from

my skull and stain my butterscotch

hair with pollen. And I'll roll over

in bed trying to forget your name,

but you've written it in

my bones.

And I'll hate myself for it.

Because I wasn't suppose to fall in love,

especially not with a god.