We would speak melody. Nothing is sufficient. Pausing to
see you, sacrificing all of silence, trying to make a moment forever. Lanterns underground,
ivory spears, unspoken, remorseful facts; lines in sand, seashores, seahorses,
palms of sediments, soil speaking, green and plush excellence—moving motion,
debating distraction, made sufficient. Cold, powerful courtship, in darkness to
propose, dropdown arms, chalk became life, numbness became entrance—beginning wounds,
hurt enough to stop loving, interrupted, researched, to hate the one giving
life. By dungeon terror—again testing kismet, most unthought vision, most
crafted artifact, rivers made of miseries. So wrong. Ethics are sacrificed. Siding
into prose, tulips become mystic, marigolds dance, gallicas smile.
