Doughnuts

Dawn.

Veins of gold and
Thickening copper running through the pre-pubescent sky.
The subtle pink of newness
Turns darker and darker; 

Pigments into a gruff, unshaved maroon. 

Already the sky has flecks
Of colloidal white in its countenance; the
Salt-and-pepper of my morning eggs.

Stay, the morning.
Why do you hurry so?
You and I are both young,
Yet you seem so eager to
Attain grey maturity,

Move on, but I
Clutch onto my black hair
and un-ridged
Brain.

Time has not yet left its grooves
On my face, though it
Presses harder
Each day. 

Stay, yet.
While the dissolving dreams yet
Funnel through my narrowing consciousness,
Never to return again, yet always
Familiar.
While your touch melts still, like body butter,
Upon my left knee, where you casually
Brushed against me, just (it seems)
A few seconds ago. 

Your floating crystalline-pink perfume
Shall condense on the center
Of my tongue as I
Walk to class, and
You shall exist
In every disappointed quarter-take. 

You shall
Inhabit my liquid daydreams, slip
In and out like a fleet-finned dolphin,
Whisper creamily
In my left ear, demand
My present in return
For your affection.

Stay.
Just a few minutes ago (it seems), you
Nestled against my chest,
Your burntchocolate hair straying mischievously
Like a monkey
Of its own mischievous accord
Onto my desert face; my eyes record
Feverishly your index finger's movement.

Your nervous giggles that
Collide and rummage at the back
Of your throat, and tumble
As my left hand
Snakes across the ridged plateau of your
Back,
As we burrow into my too-small bed.

And we lie on the sleepy sheets, and
Eat metaphors like doughnuts.
The pale yellow crusted with snowy white;
The centre of mass floats
In thin air and
The sweetness gives me bloodthirst and
It shall kill me. 

Stay.
Your spirit flies like a madwoman
Every time the yolk of the morning
Dribbles in and pools in oblong splashes through
My calcificated blinds and
Onto the non-stick floor; flies
Thousands of miles
Across the ocean.

Stay.
But it's all right if you don't.
I shall meet you again
After tonight, in the interstices
Between sleep and wakefulness.

And we shall dance and play
And laugh and sleep
Under a guiltless milkmoon
That never changes.

...

Yet every day
I wake up from the loving
Of the night, it seems
Your heart beats a little less,
And your breath is a little less moist
On my yellow mouth.