Darling, you are anticipated amelioration
Sun drops of warmth on my sun dried skin
A collapsing pillar of contentment
We are heaven birthed and heavy struck by non-circumvented spaces, moved furniture pieces, and black laughter
Darling, you are anticipated asunder that glistens
It’s black and sticky in my muddled cognate
You are a digital creation of words like
backspace
Pasted like intolerance
Darling, you can’t glue together my lemniscated lines
Frisson, you are frisson.
The colors of your actions are the
questions I will never ask.
They stare, they chant, they fly
Darling, you are awestruck and awakening
Gold paint and a soul full of cimarron
You are inconsistent labor, like
oscillating threads weaving together the mural of decomposition
I dare not purse my lips
I absorb the radiating sparks of visible sunlight
Like cliche hands ticking time
Flare, to glare.
You aren't the hand in mine
And forgiveness can’t be told by 9
Stars race like caterpillars darting by
Oh darling, you aren’t the hand in mine
