You’re
an axis, filtered through diamonds, a marquise emerald.
Read
the calligraphy, to paint demons on walls, and more for similes.
We
ride a pendulum, a swan as sculptress, the love of parents. I
thought
for fables, a grand entrance, to condone this folly. You’re
far
too wise, a whetstone mind, grinding arguments; but more for
difficult,
a want for growth, as penchant as fatherhood. Know for
love,
as opposed to chasm, dancing upon heartstrings. We were young,
a
symbol come pain, striving for something better. The ember fell,
where
expletives soar roots, to alter a loving texture. We want for
perfect,
as imperfect beings, afraid to face conflict. I fault us so, a
venture
taboo, the wound of cities; and how to picture, a lot so cruel,
as
steep as pits; but know for love, to slice a soul, for carrying sin.
It’s
deep in Job, the family’s cobwebs, an opus come tomorrow; and
hydrant
prayers, to flood a swan, the strength of mother's. You’re
soon
to see, a tinge of rain, as mnemonic as experience; but more to
joy,
the fane of promise, screeching beneath energy. I love you found,
a
torn design, to thirst a universe; for heart is law, to feel a soul,
aflame a daughter’s
empire.
