You’re Cold; I Burn

What I cannot discern

Can only be forged through an excavation

Uncovered, unearthed, interrogated

I want to burn it all up

Mover of lines and shaker of the sky

Does the clamor amongst the terrain echo

As ricochet

As reflection

Inverted and projected across the horizon

Displayed against a backdrop of time stood still

The foreground a state of warfare

A battle cry to the long sweeping plane that softly kisses the edge

Write love to me, lick me

The sweetest of all songs those words

But the memory of what chose me more is haunting

Why must you withhold the illumination

Necessary to bear witness to resistance

The why’s less loud

No longer held in the secret confluence of the stars

Instead in the scum that won’t pitch from the facet

Padlocked and want of amity

A collection of objects rather than a communion of subjects

Did you not know the tones we were creating was the very fabric of eternity

Your touch was a tonic of specific preference

Satisfying a salacious plea

And I’m commemorating on a foyer I don’t own

Fostering a love I don’t want