Reasons Why

I could love you, friends unyielding, eager to perish. But

This is death, a case of losing, bending tornadoes. We die

for something classic, tripping over fences, reaching for

skies. Give me your name, praising Christ, tugging at a

Ghost. I love it, somewhere gone, chanting through rivers.

I’d lie, but you remember my heart—take half. I’m

crying without tears, gripping a wrecking ball, touching

invisibility. It’s ever arcane, an argent smile, sly with

reason. My soul swooned, a cup of anxiety, as vague as a

deep azure. So tell a bard, to light a candle, and break a nib.

 

I could love you, hell-bent, drinking claret rivers. But this is

pain, a case of sorrow, as coquettish as death. Our nights a

daymare, drugged into a future, where friends puncture

souls. I felt it hit, ever stung, a small group of fire. Remind

me of the trauma, suffer through the flame, as febrile as a

hundred and five temperature. Something is giving, a gentle

wind, stirring a human vase.