Oh
such nectar, gilted with faith, a mental chime. I mourn
it
in shadows, as subtle as morning, a woman’s rhythm.
We
spare a tear, locked in lust, partly unknown. Such a
fragile
glance, a mental physics, fraught with unrest. We
rope,
to sing, lost in smoke. Elsewhere to cry, deeply slain,
desperate
to say more. Such is scarecrows, to frighten a
heart,
where yesterday was roses. I approach gently, to
plead
a soul, taken for tempo. She cries our nightmare,
measured
for storms, for deeply pressured. We grow a tornado,
to
feel a pulse, wrestling to break ground. What is this
backboard,
a web of briers, choking us softly? We love,
mudded
in mirrors, meshed in paining joys. I swim, cave to
grave,
digging up bones. She speaks in cadence, to wrought
a
meter. Our cries, a swollen swarm, ever to give life. We
hold
for moments, to gather words, where hearts flutter. I
love
her wild, to break a moon, shooting for a sun. We’re
soon
to laugh, a blatant fate, refusing to let go.
