A Note in the Margins

I have a friend who wants to love me

But only with obstruction

Wants to bear witness to a mad expanse of passion and hold ceremony for the sensual

But refrains space for the existential ponderance of monotony, unaware of it's intrinsic ritual

The trees tempting the devil

The flower named of the sun

A heart weighted by stones

Chaos, composed of by a simple, playful nature

Sought of dimension

They will not know the wild thread I weave

Shared Tendance

I already gave it to you

Holistic and without anticipation

Not unloading, an exchange for appreciation of a marriage to space

Now, who will touch the dirt when we're gone?

Here in the sun, do we need more?

How long until the windows part from their seems, leaving

Only a new perspective

Framed by the old wooden door

Finally swallowed by embers with the intention of waste

Consuming each time it was left ajar

Things slipping out

The stairs are starting to crack as the leaves of those roots you planted greet the rays that devour the day

I am sorry I loved like I was lingering in a doorway

I did not know which way to turn

At the confluence where the wood grains meet, where the beam would bend if they wave could break

That volume of a wave manipulated

Many times I will have to let go of this buried house of fire, one thousand kisses deep

When sadness steps out of us

Leaving a space so large God could step in

These things that keep my company have eaten stones

Am I a familiar feeling and how long have we remained in this cloud

A berth for alchemy

Gold will be forged from your discards

This love hurts when you touch it