she
knew me, by mere essence, to plague a countenance, as looking at self. we
couldn’t fathom, this cliff attraction, to something so deadly. we held hands,
standing afar, afield this mischief;—as a speaking diamond, pale through
flirtations, this old tear creeping. what for names, this incantation, at
ground zero?—to filter a monster, abed our sulfur, to float upon a crisis. its
4a.m. veal, as 5a.m. liquor, as for long conversations—to realize a
savage;—ever her eyes, speaking in tongues, as sad as her last love; but how to
forgive, a familiar stranger, when hell is internal?
she
was so real, to awaken in screams, groping for Jesus. its music her gait, to
touch so loosely, as kissing our serpent; oh the paleness, as face to face, our
nightmares walking. we carved patients, as non-forgiving, for love used to
falter;—as born this death, to expect for death, to meet Christ. her mind would
yell, some type of nonsense, accusing me of treason; but only a week, of
soaking auras, of siphoning chi. “You abandoned me, as not wanting abandonment,
something so eternal.” He was a number, to quench a second, bleeding in fuchsia
rivers!
