It
was fair a season, for touch her eyes, to perish lightly. I
spoke
soon, to cherish embrace, aloft center stage. Such
“pelletted
tears,” ever and anon, to clamor sadness. I was
shy
polluted, for shackled hearts, a friend for distress.
Long
crumbled conviction, to sight unsighted, adrift for
shores.
We mourned forever, a silver line, to love come
forbidden.
I sheared a soul, come breath to wail, a shell
but
a carcass. We tore for nectar, a neighbor’s eyes, zipped
but
untucked. I buckled a thought, a torn complaint, to
knell
for a valley. Such vatic cries, and attic sighs, a tragic
high.
We never a wind, a shelter sad, to die come pressure.
She
flailed a death, barely to swim, through muck and grime.
I
broke for windows, to breathe for air, a room to excavate.
Her
fairest gem, to rage through whines, where patience
snored.
I soon for woods, to carve a branch, where agony
dwells.
We chase for image, the grandest dream, pulled for
collars;
but oh for lights, through crestfallen sores, to kiss
but
one. I flee to turn, for arms empty, shadowed though
sullen;
for close is love, through grit and vein, for velvet clad.
