COLLECTING WET DUST

You annoint the change

You see fizzling on the surface of my

Piercing gaze

As the omnipresent ghost

Succumbing to fancy’s

Shifting from,

 

How fickle your touch feels

When my joy’s reincarnated love

Oils the harrowed joints

Of disemboweled hope,

 

Though soft beneath your trembling hand

And plush below your weight

This glowing face reflects

A stranger’s bewilderment

And eeriness prevents the steady

Clench

Of your fingers around my own

Shaking hand,

 

Still yours to breathe in

And crush to dust

If that be your will;

The light sieved by my chest

Always produced by our

Entangled legs,

 

Stop fearing joy

As it caresses murky remnants away

Seize what is yours

Offered freely by

My lungs’ purest breath.

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