I could have sworn I’d pick you from the whole. With my blind eyelid palms I see only with bats at hand.

Those worn brass knobs shine luster in gleaming. Take from me these grapes for I have nothing to give you but insight.

I contain much more than this porcelain skin allows. There are cracks in this commentary and I secretly hoped you would notice.

See through the vain membranes and capture the tree as it bleeds waves of crimson and auburn. This craving lasts until my ears sleep.

These, my sisters and brothers, are but stitching in your scent. Drown in your cloth and channels before you approach me with assumption.

I’ve wrapped this caked breath in oval delight. I cannot clothe my kisses for I am lacking a mouth even to smile with.

Yet I hoped I could have chanced upon your sight. I caught something fluttering still in the midst; only drunk did it stay.

These pieces combat themselves within my consciousness until I forfeit my sight. Stay to aid in my recovery; only with, can without remain.

I have the tortured painting upon my forehead fixed. Your brush spits long, still fresh from these faces.

Steal the wishes from my lips and tax my thoughts. This flirtatious mind is ever transfixed at your grasp.

Sometimes I plead with myself just to taste the truth. There is relief in reflection.

Take this offering to the teeth and treat it as a toy. Sloth is a virtue after all.

My stake was contained within a single flutter of an insect wing and your silhouette led me astray. I trusted the temperature and truth be told; there was success in my sight.