steep lark
For love, I'd give up the forever for any space in your time;
The flower you grew in scarlet tears flooding spinal fluid and
If I collide into stars, will this comet look beautiful too?
I want blazing trails not to be filled in flames, but with sanctuary;
Where fiery thorns will freeze, in a place to dream between Januarys:
I want life to feel like an icicle in permafrost; existent without fading, and
Possible to melt, yet not quite — stable.
I want a life with a head in another realm, where the only weather is sound —
to love a penpal that takes me off the ground, colored like Nebula cloud and
quartz-infused fabric, I
Wish upon fossilised shooting stars and carefree sediment polarising
Salt-grain sand bays with cyan skies that you don’t miss me/…
Granted visions through eclipses center my soul with how I'm thinking
Of airlocked sealed shut sights too far for a naked eye to see at night,
Centered on your shine: and my monetised shared skin-cell soaks in
your lightness
and rejects it;
“She” a being of your starlight rising strips words as shedding fur coats
Beg for a piece of savoury moon-bites — "He" of planetary design, to fly
Until impact on blue tides of her mind, washed out to the sea that we write,
Glowing together,
Bright in the darkness that entombs fated livestock together : “They” (as collective)
Projecting ill-fated soul-searchers in what one would want, not need.
And I scrawl endless pen strokes as if theorising my soulmate
Conquering infinities of questions in heaven’s game of met fates
And ‘I’ have reached not quite sought king breaking queen-state towers
A broken promise, but maybe not so, for
...