every time I think I might
you spin me 'round in lucidity.
though they tamper, what they tamper
is pale blue windows of your simplicity.
when you sang to me from the tempest,
it was as imagined, and I caved,
well they still grab hold of where I was,
but I left for the better that I braved.
sweetness I am still standing
in the ash that burned that place,
and weakened still, chaos gets its fill-
relatively found revelation in your face.