what love- bursting at the seams,
his manic eyes
translated the tendencies.
I look to the sky
and your resentments move like tides
how we will deny, and never ask why
the capsize or joyride
of an unruly sense of pride.
your mission to suicide
or the fear I felt as you died
the clouds became my guide
as I tried to make you stay inside.
you can decide
a flame will burn and we’ll collide.