I traverse these curses
like a standoffish simile
writing i still luv u, k? to metaphors torn
between your reality and

mine.

The simple pirouette of "less is more"
Is itself a palimpsest
When you are you.
My deep divers fail to resurface. Truth.

Instead of being alongside you --
Apart yet with you --
I am stupidly fixed on
being all the way inside you --

Bodies twisted and twisting,
as your thighs ride into hips, and
mine into necks,
gaunt, spent, hung.