She’s
premise to premise, a living axiom, even an engineer.
Our
fireplace, a field of flames, to build a mirror. I perish
her
gestures, to witness cries, flung into beauty’s future. We
live
immortal, ever for haunted, trend to soul. She saw me,
to
break a vision, to reap a penalty. There it lives, a touch of
anguish,
an actuating cause. It’s made of steel, to bend souls,
to
rift a promise. I spark a lighter, to strike a wick, a room of
scented
candles. She dances aromas, ever to glow, to ignore
a
premise. I laugh gently, to witness kindness, a law of
forgiveness.
Love is different this way.
I
speak of mania, to strike a root, where life is chaotic. I was
found
lost, a young tourist, roaming a spool of darkness. Love
gripped
a wrist, to live a journal, a marvelous scope. We
perish
freely, to relive life, a fountain of salt. Oh such richness,
to
abound in glory, rooted in colors. I face her more, to feel a
person,
as opposed to a fraction of love. Life is different this
way,
an unending episode.
