It seems ingenious by art of sound, tone hesitant,
leasing a smile; if loving is made vulnerable, or strategic, how have we become
stable? Holding to her calmness, her excellence, envying where she pledges allegiance;
sore petals, softer grass, turquoise experience. In begging for obsession, to
sense reluctance, by grace to have surrendered. Souls magnified, parish wishes,
condemned to allergies—her swiftness, so many degrees, falling into a form of
freedom—to adore, if worthy, some strange creature. It appears disingenuous, to
claim against passion, to feign a dream upon an ax. Holiday sadness—those woes
coming harsher, to remember a special soul and precious silence. If loving is
made unpredictable, some unique monopoly, how have we become stable? I was
noticing interior, the way she paws a heart, so intricate the way she plays nonchalance.
In spirit to announce her, to receive self, cleaving to invisibility. So great
the affection, so distant the reality, two hiking up hills. To exhaust
compassion, to invert good luck, listening to joy’s radar. I was found
daydreaming. I was located returning. I was lost in sable eyes. Some deep
lantern, some sailing ship. Upon waves meant for adults.
