he makes the world wait
for his beating whim
radiating the smell of artificial cherries and failure
your kindest words slit my throat like a knife
you are my closest beckoning risk
a testament neverending
he begs for no one but his love
his pain is wasted upon men screaming slurs and shouting hate
he’ll tattoo the lines on his wrist and vow to the masses
all is mind inside my well
take it back love
your complete contentment and absolute absolution
is too much for my weakening confidence in your wellbeing
simply free loving he says*
find the good behind my darkened eyes and i will reap all your sins
my dear sweet ever suffering risk