1-3-17
Your grace, it falls over me like a curtain,
But no shapes show,
Never ending.
This place, is a dreamscape I'm certain
And I watch the shape show,
Never ending.

Roses on the tiles,
From previous stains
Of bare feet
Pressing
On ceilings.
Give you what you deserve
And I swallow the pill.

But the red doesn't come from the flowers-
Babe, we're far from the beginning
Of love,
And the shade isn't in the acid
Nor the curtains,
But you find it in my eyes,
Blowing smoke at the lasers-
I tell you the truth,
But you'll destroy me with it later.

I wish we were isometric-
But our dimensions
Differ,
For you see the frozen surface
And I can see every current
Beneath the cold.

Dress it pretty,
But we don't go to a church today,
You come at me
And bitch because my hands were in your face,
I tell you to understand,
And then again,
I wish we were-
⁃ (m.m)