to fabricate a progeny
even as result of love
is a crime in the
labyrinth of my mind
for affection doesn't spiral
like fractals on branches
it blooms, to radiate
words and feeling
it wants you to help it burst
through the world
until it
dims
and
declines

i know my eyes find gentle
fawn fondled by stroke
of its kindred
violets of golden light
brought to the sweet center
sucklings encapsulating my tiny soul

an embryo is
clement, humane
but its spawn
will never be the flower to its
once benevolent
stem


if i were to breed a flower
would it possess arcane secrets of the world?
if i were to
slip away
would she perceive that life
is cruel
and replicate my
innocent belief
how the absence of someone
to hold your bones
convinces you you are unworthy?



for if someone i adorned
so much
would induce me otherwise
i
would
evermore
*dissipate