The world; our mutual doting chatelaine; the battered and misunderstood child we choose to defend; the bequeathing sage we softly grieve; my love for our lady is only amplified by and through your paradoxical counterpart. My sweet adversary; the dawn to my twilight.
Pruning the heart; to allow for regrowth.
-If it was possible to all at once; feel old and new at once; stuck in time, the the greyness of introspection I once believed to be solitary; that is where I stand with you in our moments of deafening silence. If fable and prose could form skin cells; and poetry ran thick through blood and marrow, then I would have/will/have before come to understand that through you. If people could collectively be one geographic place then I would happily scour the landscapes of thought and lush green vision that sprouts from the abundant soil;
But whenever or wherever, there are places I could make home to my fingers, my tongue and breath, my cheek and thighs, my lips and spirit; they could all find habitat on your flesh’s terrain.-