drink to this, lipless,
"'rotten' isn't what you think",
you tarry the borders in white.

you glisten like factory,
you tremble like gold,
you're edging the ready to fight.

your countenance silver,
your wrangle-send wet,
my finger, your jawline, the light.

I miss what you were.
  You forget who you are.

        Euclidean.
                          
               Forgiven.

  And right.