+

His name was shy of just 3 little letters. Missing
From the ceiling my legs on a bed
Of razors.
Through the head on the other side, pop the weasel
Goes the needle. Speakers blow through the cracks,

He took his mirror and applied some dust.
I breathed in the senses, broke out of delight.
Eyes through a camera lens flashed
Flickered on my skin,
Candle burns a 3rd degree, the way his love would ignite,
A vision, clearly he wasn’t one to sacrifice.
So I told myself to tread carefully with love magnetically understated,
Not required to give back.

His hands would almost fissure my body if I
Didn’t hold on tighter.
A ghost of past, slick presents on my holy,
Jesus he was laudable.
Like no other from a page I’d written with half
Empty ink.
Carved precision, such fulfillment, anything to get a little piece
Of heaven that is him.

So fine and outlined on my lips his tips
Went searching a map of lines,
He was good with his hands, no race against time.
His eyes like water, purified with just one smile.
No grammar to correct my mistakes,
If I said the wrong thing the alphabet he would erase.

Hid himself deep inside my essence. I tried to extricate between
This fabrication,
But forgery felt good on my body so I let him
Desecrate and outrage,
Provide me with suffrage so I can have
A character worthy of a challenge to dissipate