Our backs are barren
**** and cold,
and we'll hug warmly
in a sporadic breath.

Reflected boldly
on a royal sword;
a caress will freeze
drowned in coldness and blush.

Broken bits of a tempo
slowly find their way;
and we'll replay back the symphony
when we're in dismay.

Like puzzle pieces trapping
scrambled sand in an hourglass;
only meaningful when time
elapses through an atom of sand.

Those puzzle pieces
are scattered and raw
small, radiant words
and bleary, missing faces.

Typically vivid when
they're glued correctly to show
a painting of a hidden memory;
it's a noisy, deserted strand.

So whenever we fight
I'll willfully lose my psyche;
to replay back the moment
I embraced you in my sight.