Foolish This Pride

I once surrendered, this thing called love, as a babe in a crib; to see your face, etched in prisms, as lovely as a faint goodbye. We held eternity, oblivious our style, appreciation is little our love. I roam valleys, pictured as psalms, our affair but a fantasy; while cleaving this dream, captured by insanity, this walk through dementia; to see your face, reaching so near, as hearts review such love. It had to be real, prior to such dejection, as pleated in fantasies: this inner cry; that outer revolt; those seconds prose was needed. I die to see it—this rabid love, where bodies become one: thrusting through chaos, as tender as lions, broken from soul to weather; that inner fiction, this crave for love, as wild as invisibility. We ruptured prayer—that need for someone, as electric as fire: this thing of deaths, as drifting through airwaves, as cautious as a second glance. I knew your heart, while never that light, this trench a repulsive sight; wherewith, attraction, this deep confliction, at wiles with self this mirror; whereto, our invention, to have that inner cage, if but a second that seduction; this fatal art, to imbue such passion, longing in another’s arms; as mental this self, creeping towards climax, as to pause such sin: that gray forest, filming such betrayal, while captured in tortured memories; that rabid angst, this shell of men, as opposed to feeling mercy; where it shouldn’t be love, this gray affair, while purposed through prose; so why for literature, this passion of hells, where touch is death this city? I ask confronted—by lights within, as to yearn for skin to skin; to taste our breaths, mourning our farewell, while to perish a guilty man; but loathe that day, with so much to give, but a fool cleaving to paradise. It mustn’t be love, but a moment to speak, this ravished sol our query. I’m deep for love, as sharing with time, those inches into detriments; this activity woman, pulling as to chastise, pushing beyond reality. We must be free, as to rake temptations, our coals washed in vinegar.