It appears in rain, earthquakes, a sea-forest, those deep scars, such flowers in bloom.
In loving I was confused. I never fathomed love—not as it hurts to feel good.
And one reads, and one stands still, and another casts a dream.
To knead an emotion, to need a feeling, so spatial, so befuddled.
I was in admiration, looking at aesthetics, analyzing a curse. If to seize a second,
listening to insignia, bled of decency, running into orbit.
I was excited to have her. I was such an innocent soul.
We made excellence. We viewed deaths.
I was left sea-gone; I soared with her.
We’ve become every type of forgiveness.
