You Say

Arms up, palms out,
you stop me in my tracks.
"Don't move," you say.
"The sun behind you is a halo.
The wind in your hair is the kiss of God.
You look like heaven to me."

I can feel your eyes on me;
they touch me from head to toe.
"Stay away," I say.
"The curve of your mouth is a serrated edge.
The glint in your eye is a loaded gun.
You look like pure sin to me."

Hand out, finger crooked,
you beckon me to you.
"Come closer," you say.
"The scent of your hair is an ocean breeze.
The caress of your hand is a butterfly kiss.
You are a balm to me."

I feel your words beneath my skin;
they mark me from chest to spine.
"Consume me," I say.
"The brush of your lips is a snake bite.
The taste of your mouth is cyanide.
You are a poison to me."

"Back away, then," you say.
"Release me, then," I say.
"You are the completion of me," you shout.
"You are the end of me," I whisper.