Battle Cry!

Your hair moves on you in just the same mesmerizing manner as the rays of sun which so delicately caress every edge of you;

And I am spent without reservation

against all sane advice

I’m spent so entirely on you that the depths of me spill out with each breath encompassing the very thought.

Let the axes be drawn and maybe let our tongues waste some of the life-giving red on their edges before we start destroying ourselves in attempting to cut our hearts out.

Perhaps there are no naked scenes in my mind of you,

becauseĀ  the spring breath you possess means I’m constantly in worship of the waste-land in me, brought to life by the mere sight of you.

And I am not ashamed to confess that even from eternal distance and space-giving, life-allowing, nonsensical barity – your essence could never lose its insatiable aroma.

 

Could I…

Reach out for your palm for a moment and pretend you’d asked me to?

And if I…

Let you go, promise you won’t ever look back at me…

 

But those sun rays remind me,

when your shoulder shies away –

that there’s no one else who found me;

in the setting of an ugly day.