Brittle hair and cracked skin,

begging for the cry of clouds like a dozen wilted signs of love discarded on a front porch in a pile of disgrace left to die in the sun.

Hard features purposely pushed together with the thought that opposition means perfection,

like misguided missiles with coordinates of ultimate destruction.

Words of warmth, comforting, until they get too close and burn a home in a heart,

the slime of a savior covers your features,

crawling invisible over your essence like a thousand hungry creatures.

A crooked smile blocks the odor of death and decay, which you only tend to notice with every word that I say.

Crossed eyes and a “too long finger” which I used to blot out my heart,

a special part of my brain threw it in from the start.

Embrace each difference, a small arms width away from the great divide,

unavailable, a slipping secret, unreachable like yours arm touching my side.

Pale design, an ego inflated to the size of a thimble,

cold shoulder, each step a stumble as I cross the line, ever so simple.

Encourage each episode, every ending eats everyone’s eulogy.

A static design, pleased as punch at what is yet less than divine,

Finish each chapter stronger, I am yours, and now you are mine.