I.

The wheel has strained my lust,

My texture doused in a barrel of infusion,

Trapped between two florets and woven in their soft puffs

Each, protesting my remaining flesh

And I am only a heart that can rivet a pale:

 

II.

I thought I could stay for eternity, shimmered between her delicate fingers;

Her bosom is mild

Her stench, fresh and refined with a concoction: citrus, green, dianthus,

heliotrope, sandalwood and the musk of armpits.

It smears everywhere in my house, wardrobes, bathroom.

Her eyes glisten the groping shanties,

Her chocolate skin defies the sun.

 

III.

Then I met her, an ignition of my throbs

She mirrors a surrogate devotion

Before, I thought them could have never been a copy

But she is the authentic broth, immersed with purity.

She beams a mush of patchouli, coriander, star anise and incense.

Her body, diced in a coke bottle

She walks in beauty, like stars at the fringe.

I thought I could stay in bliss, shimmered between her faint bust;

Never to go back, but anywhere I go, she goes.

 

IV.

But am breathless, astray, adrift the wilds

Which pale should I ferry,

Where should I eddy; the two rills are blotting my shine.

Heads are silencing my pulse

Which heart must I carry

To coo together in the prairie

 

V.

Must I take a sabbatical and erode into time

I love her first, but her subtle voice towers mine

Then I love her, but her songs negate the holy cooing of the first dove.

 

VI.

Must I be suicidal, maybe I could fetch the gypsy

Whose minute of love will wax the confusion.

I will imbibe the toxic concoction,

I will trade for a sabbatical

And choose to learn how to love you.

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