You are wrong

You drown in velvet.
You sing songs
with words.
And paint pictures,
with muscles and bone.
The ends of your mouth,
are the ends of the moon,
the end of the world
and the end of what I wish.
Your night is escaping,
and the sun is rising.
As a bright as a star,
but as brittle as earth.
Drink darkness.
Drink speech.
Your image bleeds
oceans.
The right shade.