Heart to Grave

Oh such gentle kiss: a crying fever. We outsoar passion, afraid

To capture; and burgundy eyes, a topaz vision. We fall apart

To flourish; and die to live. Never such art and pain: a joy to

Suffer. Her soul, a river moon: an oval plum; and we perish—

Climax; and we live, shattered. Tell me, the sun—to shine—a

Soul. Our daily shame: sheer perfection; and heart to grave,

Our Father’s miracle. Awake a crystal pond: admire reflection;

For such beauty, an angel’s pen; and such flight, a cherub’s

Wings. Oh such gentle kiss: a crying fever. We flourish—a

Death; and perish—a life. So much—a purple scar; and so

Much—a grey Island. She gaits a psyche, as rich as ginger. I

Pause: a turquoise tear; and love, an art addiction. Thus, the

Light, a Persian rose; and thus, the rose, a gilt’d grey; and

Heart to grave, our crimson love.