I can do it too

Author essays outpouring love
written in abstract as if not
PAINFULLY pointed-
A spear to stab straight through.

The kind, like a fish hook
which snag prey on the
backwards draw
dragging them in
to dinner.

Except: My written word could
never match that which
i showed in every breath
or act.

Inverse of yours, these fragments
of passion that
I NEVER ******* SAW.
What ******* SWOON?
**** your ******* retrospective
IDEALISM.

… Because I caught it too.
A precious illness I never want to lose…
I’ll join to idealize you.

Yank on the line harder.
If you stitched it of any substance…
It might not snap.

PS: Now I can see you ripping through
my rainbow scales, to dine on
my cooked white flesh.
Do I even remember how to bleed?