I’d wear your bones as my bones,
your skin as my skin, take your life
to drape around my own shoulders.
It would be a prize to have your body.
I could be such a good version of you.
I would fill the void corners and cracks
in your small, dazzling world, the places 
where you can’t touch, the many things
that are empty. I’d be there instead,
in the back of your mind, waiting, hungry.
I could be the reflection in your mirror.
Let me dig my hands into you, let me
uncurl my roots in your softest bruises.
If you let me flower in your skull I would
make honey from your misery, I would
take control. You wouldn’t have to chose 
how to be bad. You wouldn’t need to 
save face for the audience in your head.
There is only me watching. I’d suck the air
from every room if I had your lungs,
if I had your lungs I would breathe life
into all of your poems. I would make
your life into a poem. I would make 
you into something somehow even more
beautiful. I would make you better than.
I would take your heart like a starving lion
takes a limping antelope, I’d savor it fully.
I would taste all of your aches and desires
and become them as your blood becomes
my water, as I digest your sick fantasies,
your dreams of being free to trust yourself.
You know you are not the best you could be. 
I could be your greatest ideration, you wouldn’t
need to eat or drink or think or move or breathe.
I would live your perfect life for you instead.
I could make it a perfect life for you.
Everything you ever wanted glistens 
in the reflection of my eyes, my smile
is that of your favorite dream. I could be
your everything. I am all that you know.
What else would love you like this, fully?