The dissonance of your resonating
image haunts my memory.
A drifter in dimensions,
the prevention that kept me from you,
was myself and my trajectory.
Not a man then
but some other lesser mess of a soul.
At first,
with your plasma torch of a self,
you took my hands.
I was left laying still in the dirt,
with my eyes to see and my mouth
to taste the horrid flavor of our tango.
As well as my heart to feel
and my mind to think
but this would be a schism of my senses.
Succubi eventually take them all.
At least all the ones that matter.
Then she kicked me out to Cosmos.
I was flattered at the beginning,
when you told me you loved me.
But now,
I'm drifting into the darkness of space
with my environmental suit,
that protects me forever.
Wandering and Unaffected.
I need a resurrection.