My Cherished Darling

I salt the gristly piece and position it like an airplane. The eyes follow my delivery, while ultimately making the choice. As I watch in trepidation, the assured gaze stands to embrace me, there is dwelling here.

The irrational alloy flows through the communal air, the flight making my arm weak. A firm grip directs the place, and landing resides inside the belly. The nutrients giving their massage, pleasing you from the inside.

Uneasiness blankets my thoughts in awe, for I find difficulty in completing this for myself. Mouth wide open, the plane takes flight again. Chewy tendrils of precious grit the teeth, immersed in saliva, they disperse and make passage to the belly.

The belly swells with meals of ordinary and celebrated moments, organic passages of a lifetime. Medleys of tangible and intangible desserts, but none which are unappealing.

While fullness is inconsequential, we must rest. The spoon finds sanction on our table as we walk hand in hand to our bed. As we lie, our vulnerabilities take preference and I sustain to grow. From spoon to spoon, all is sublime.

Entangled Sunrise

The precedence is set, incurable tales of your projection and dreams. How do you live with yourself she asks?  I have no idea what you are talking about, I am the mathematical equivalent of humanity.

He sits with this proclamation.

That would be true, if it weren’t for …

If it wasn’t for …

If that was …

If I knew …

The pain. The sun rises and sets with me he thinks. If it wasn’t for the injustice of rising the sun, I would be perfect. Thus, I am perfect as I carry the burden.

Why do you sear me she asks? It’s a bestowment, you are branded and you are mine. You cause me to rise the sun, this is difficult, and for that your branding is your disagreement.

Crepitation.

I love you. Pop. Snap. Cauterize. Muffled stillness.

Now I no longer have to rise the sun he thinks to himself. I am perfect as I no longer have a burden.

Stillness.

It’s Lovely to Meet You

You lay with me in the shade, reminiscing on past days, wondering how our innards cultivated shuffling forward. 

We tell ourselves, one day it will be adequate, but the period for those falsehoods is left under bright eyes and maple tree helicopters. 

We retain the other’s hand, nails grounding to secure a foundation. But the foundation is weak. Two fragmentary bodies cannot save me. 

Me is you vast, lengths of oceans and prayer. The rolling blue dowry, given names but rendered meaningless throughout the unavoidable aging. 

If I peel you, will I find me shut? We grip harder. 

We talk through plans, maybe this time it will provide for my needs. There is always hope you say. 

Yes, I have hope and I love you dearly.