Opalescent sphere radiating aura
Tempts me to lay back and bask
Relax and gaze at trees and stars
Yet she's all of it and moreover divine

Nape of neck was so smoothly skimmed
Bumps formed to reach for you
Knife drew a crude line illustration backside
We're performance art for an audience of none

What's it matter things I say?
Only flare shots to strangers.
Vying for regard?
Young and old on the same stormy sea.

Floating flimsy raft of mine adrift
Except now I've got you for sailing

I want to explore you
Burn you up inside out
Consume you like fire
And embolden your senses

I want to wrap around you
As rain trickling down
Pausing on corners and
Form caressing steam

Blinded and led forward
Only by the sounds afforded
The limited expression
Of pure intentions flattered

There are nights that I can't fall asleep
I feel flat
I feel only one inch wide
And gravity pulling me downward

I want to sit up
I want to have depth
I want to walk around street lamps
And feel like lights are tiny stars to wish on

I could use this one night
But instead I'm counting the ceiling tiles
Like seconds until the sun comes up
And waiting for my time to drift off cliffs

Freedom to move forward
doesn’t mean
there isn’t a mountain in your way

Just like a child can’t be un-orphaned
a scar removed only becomes larger
These things are futile

When you’ll justify bed sores
make friends with wrinkles
and quit fighting against your captor
You lost

If our heads are buried in the sand
how will we find the light?
Sitting idly by while the ground shakes
The ground even quakes

For you to pull yourself out of the dirt
And
Brush
Off

Survive this
Climb the mountain and roll down the other side like a kid

I gaze at you,
ceaselessly,
in anticipation of words,
but these vacuous conversations are only ones that seem to come.

These salutations and customs- are all too familiar,
a forewarning to hail this semblance,
a bellow to put on my armour of camaraderie,
a display of grandeur,
as I wallow in cursory nods.

all this while, I still await those words,
ones that promise to slit the soul,

for it keeps on cluttering with ghosts of past flaws,
a past I wish that never was.