My Soul, You Flaked

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