My soul is a mirage, floating in a blurred place, mirror image reflective, reflecting a blessed resting space. Your smiling face, wondering if you’re real, whether your words are trans: ported, posed, lated, to my fate. Our collated states, transmitting empty crates, restless dates. Transit.
Breaking away from traditional aims, each day a fictional game is staged. A different sort of exposure, inextricably the same kind of pain, claiming closure in amalgamated planes, unpainting stains, you return to me changed each time I say your name again. Maimed memories. Frozen, stilled in a frame while his presence, very essence: a fleet of pointing vanes, craving every pulse tingling, pulsating vein.
Broken meanders, I surrender. His double helix shelters, protects, we land there. His petals are pearls, twin peaks seeking freedom from belief, it’s no fairytale thing he thinks, once upon a rhyme is not for him, but I’m here. Waiting. Fixated. Elated. Pupils dilated… You’ll mark easy, imagining skin, flesh light, breezy, kisses simpled by ink. Sampled within, floating, cursive, tattoo me with your breathing. Breathe in. Let me feel in, this feeling, stealing, sealing god willings. Your truths belonging to me secretly, obediently, deviantly, you lean into me.
It starts, and ends, with you.