I’m a reaching arm, a plaited heartbeat, a vacuum inverted.
I’m a chalice—her torn demise, a psychic losing interest; to regain love, this
fever as agony, a man grieving those moments. I’m a cello, this solo
performance, drifting at the sound of soulprints; as perfect abandonment, where
not a word was uttered, as to color her perception: that inner avarice, this
rapacious greed, as this fire for loving her; where gems confuse light, while
spirit mourns love,—this penchant as wistful as literature. I’m a somber soul,
saturated in truths, anxious to read faces; where truths correlate, as to form
a premise, this kiss too shy to advance. I’m an unread letter, as cast to sea,
where a recipient scorns, that silent rune. I vie as fancy, as to never
achieve, such lofty penchants; but more to prayer, to feel this warmth, this
form of communion; where arms are reaching, where fingertips scrape,—this grand
delusion; to nurture this soul, a box of wounded pride, too shallow to ignore
the profoundness. I’m a tiger’s cub, too tiny to fend for self, and too bold to
vanish; where rain trickles, while she scratches her chest, a woman beyond her
father’s maze; to ignite in love, as to perform a ritual, where a man finds
comfort with a childish woman. I’ve cried to know it, where I yearn for fevers,
a woman too grown to die. It’s more a maze, a want for drastic—this measure
found appealing; to know for psychs, this psychotic self, at ease with peeking
daily; to find for passion, this inner want, as to speak for years and utter a word. I’m at tensions with self, as
finding fault with life, as one missing what he meant to say: this crazy
affair, this blatant affect, this motion so cold—a flame. I’m a glass of wine,
at dire appeals, as one frantic for balance; as so controlled, it’s a bit
unreasoned, as one losing control: this fair illusion, as to appeal to self,
where onlookers nod in truths; to know this love, as never to hold this love,
as proud to have confessed this love; where doves bleed, and art screams, as
naked as a bout with insanity; to know such moments, as favored in one’s mind,
as crazed in other’s eyes.
