“Skin off. Listen.
I don’t want my hands back.
Set our rust on fire.
Wait for the scorch.
Fall in love like a jet-plane
on broken wings.
Tongue the backs of my knees.
My soul is wearing your teeth.
Temple mouths, kiss me into worship.
God is listening and we’re both scared.
That’s okay, that’s okay.
I meant it.
Everything is beating.
Our alive is an entire city.
Listen. Set it all on fire.
Hold my pulse like it means something.
I’ll give you mine.
Shake it out like a carpet at your feet.
Celebrate our winter bones.
Celebrate our shaking jaws.
Can you hear the congregation?
Their cracking knees.
Listen.
Tell me your name in another language.
I’ll tell you mine.
It’s yours, it’s yours.”

Azra.T., ”Shotgun heart”  (via 5000letters)