I
imagine you flying, through dirt and mire, as one buffing a mirror; I imagine
love, to scrape the depth, as challenged not to fly. It mustn’t be real, this
weakness for majesty, to sneeze into a goldmine. We love your eyes, your beige
nature—as to ravish a campaign; and we love your arms, the reach of wiles, as
gifted as Naomi; or better Ruth, as friction to a star, where constellations
become souls. I love you dearly, to prophesy daily, in honor of a golden swan.
We’ve felt a scar, to stitch it neatly—the roots of three petals; and love
heard, to die this village, a colony of mysticism. We have lived—a modicum of
rain, staring at silver reigns; we have lived in gray, a product of hope, where
a promise wanes; to feel for pressure, the measures of life, where adults tread
lightly; as to have a style, this soaring after sadness, this sore after sanity;
to live through madness, this teenage angst, to cry after love; where such is
young, too young to gamble, and too young to live; as born in graves, the
movement of life, this churning of stars; as loving you more, this absent
heartbeat, as tangible as a.m. volts; and thus, a heartbeat is present, as ever
alive, this feeling we call holy; to have for gray minds, to feel such reality,
to straddle that thin-line. Awaken through glory, my love; see the blue
ether; become the rising comet; as this is life, to plan through strain, to
feel and flourish, and live to die, that closer to triumph. It mustn’t be real,
this hint of depression, the pressure of a candidate; to have for seasons, the
reasons of glory, to find as tried and bold; for we love it more, the coldness
of sleight, the heights of tyranny, the angst of failure; to see it plainly, as
born to see it, to know for treason: the highs and lows, the ins and ups, even
that one decision—where hell took form, as not to let go, for a position had to
be right. We come to fire, as seeking
flame, a patch of resilience; we come to life, as seeking stardom, as filled
with restless nights. I’ve loved you more, these years of girth, surrounded about
the guts; as dearly my name, and dearly my heart, forbidden to fail!
