You named

the crystals

beneath

my skin

and I

the freckles

on your knees;

I kissed the

crease of

your chin

and

the amethysts

beneath

your cheeks.

You said,

the heterochromia

in your iris

is god's way

of trying

to make

you see

and

our bodies

were meant

for art

and a heart

lain across

our sleeves.

I wonder

if you see

phosphene

or if your lungs

are strong enough

to breathe.

I wonder

if you can

hear my prayers

or if you're

able to miss me.