Or love, swear we're sweetly dreaming this.
But if it so enamours you, to carry your dawns upright
As you tuck them beyond the curtains,
Posture us into claustrophobic golds, gleaming
Arms of light, like an angel's skeleton
Descending one another by our cloud-spines.
Slip with me safely from the canvas
To a pooling ocean, oily thin in our whereness, blue-black
As treading without within; but also whitely
Glistening, bloated in the veins of our wiseness.
I will be be shyless as the size of this,
Bolder than Ligeia's breath,
An unhushable symphony of rapture.
Stranger.
I adore you sempiternally.
I have carried you between my senses,
Held you
Perilously preciously, as might the skin
Of a retina be pressed
With all the muscles of moths,
Your likeness glides, a perfect facsimile
Glissading my thinnest lens,
Blackening, if never fully black ice,
Then a one way mirror
I have often used to occupy you.
Somewhere between the now and never, dreaming
We erase all need for composure, doubt
Shivers it's spider-weight carelessly
Outwards, edging the fissures of our fiction
Further apart in time.
My collapse is slow;
I lose my vision to the cold,
The terse night paralyzing.
You stare at your ring.
I swim in blind circles.