my thoughts, sitting across from you

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Have been said, and I'd say once more, Ones that dwell in mere desires, Find nothing foul if slightly tainted with Heart provoking beats. Most offensive delicacy With a clam shell scent. Most inappropriate on odd days, Knowing it pleasing to the senses, Only if entranced under the most unconscionable high. And how can I resist such forces? I'm not to be lashed by unwritten oppressions. I've fallen and risen up, To return and trip over that same stone twice more. But I'd still love it all the like, Despite any divine intervention.

'Twas merely some words like prologue. I'd not let down so lightly, Always sandwiched ambiguous elusiveness under my coat. Not even He knows of the light in my eyes, Nor what triggers such screens and scenes. Could be in the element of enchanting notes, Holding as keys, unlocking some chastity. Like a tie-dyed influence, Spreading unnoticed from my centers… Even it has learned of my deception, Or I from it. Unlike my surfaces, It has retrograded some place in between reality and dreams. Protective coating like iridescent cuticles, Constructing devices and eerie looks, Blunt, sharpened comments, Or candy coated thorns, venomous deep within.

Yet, how am I to assume? I fully welcome, And lending a hand to my next defeat. Willing surrender, Offering darkness like a chaste virgin, To wonder at nothing so sacred as your promise. I'd rather have all that was put in my mind, Taken out like ancient embalming. Would that it'd yield never pain? Not from fallacies at least. And you know, just too well, How much of me you've conquered under strictest confinement.

I've played so many roles in these ample years, Of the Gorgon that stoned so many men, I've weighed hearts against bird feathers And pronounced them cruelest or gentlest death. I've been Hera to and fro, Tore down the feeblest attempts at my domain. The greatest winged messenger had carried me up, To receive some title, placed me upon a pedestal, And then tipped me, thrown off to Pluto's lair. But, as so many other audiences stood afoot, I caught a shine of glimpse, Of you standing by my show. Veering, smirking around the corner. Almost supernatural cunning in the iris of your eyes, Aiming, hunting my soul out of the chaos.

I never strive to resist fate's hands, Nor the time when you broke in unexpectedly, Catching me unguarded. Had I not known I drugged them subconsciously For your entrance. I'd say, "But you hadn't knocked!" Semi-knowing that it'd serve a useless purpose, That had you turned away, not minding my unspoken invitation, I would press my face up upon the glass…longing, like a discarded pet. At last, you stirred and moved this way, I'd be as easily broken as tissue handkerchiefs, And yearning as desperate as coal and fire. Such a story, told to me at imaginative age, Made me this vulnerable to solitude, Unless it's you, to be a stranger in a foreign film, Lying a flower on my café table. I'd to you after the morning's coffee and paper, To be taken by you with everything sinful, Away without a past, Nor future.

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