093023
ethan00
I don’t think I could ever die
as long as you’re by my side—
indeed I know…
it’s an uttering of a cliché.
Though it means far more to me,
than words upon a plate,
which get pushed to the fray
without an ounce of gratuity,
thus yielding words of vanity.
Baby,
I mean what I say
especially with your
proprietorship over me,
making my soul whole therein.
Don’t you know
I could never be a hoe
with your hand
gripping my neck—
taking my breath away,
my life only yours to take.
I mean what I say,
more than another cliché—
my words melding graciously
inside an appetizing mind;
tip-tapping away,
to encode strength eternally
within the synapses
of your brain.
Isn’t it so strange?
The way the lights flicker,
while I think of your soul
as a place of homestead?
I begin to trace the outline
of your internal door frame,
the smell of treated wood—
divine & inviting…
a brass knob I turn.
Will you see me,
1700 miles away
even with
states in our way?
Drool seeps out
eyes grow glossy
thoughts of you—
lungs tighten,
my heart rate slows
to regain control.
I found you.
My soul barely knows,
who is honest,
or playing with their nose—
it inches me closer
to my blood future flow
at the whim of your prose.