it wasn't your honey
that got me

nor was it
your smolder

they may be
most dimpliest lines
but what shook me
from numb to sprung
violent stripping
my own *******
what woke me
from prison slumber
was

your dent fingers
shaking crimson

still
reaching

strife gone strive
leaning into lightbloom
curled in a corner
dim pulse knocking

how in the center
of rage-iced pain
tornado torn lone
you felt it

reflecting my own
pushpull oblong halo

still
orbiting

even our fuckits and flails
have aftertaste
of skies slid