the pieces of me? they wish to know! but would they bother to figure it out?!

upon reasonable cynicism or dubious suspicion, my recognition_ of your stain remains!

wholly composed with a toxic ink – that is IF digested in sync. in a previous life, my spirit was kept to this bewildering strife.

daily mentions of your gleam. fire and steam pressing down your jeans. i could have made a diary out of the memories you seemed to redeem, justifying our ripped seams. my dream is never cast by a responders reach, but by a living testament resurrected to teach.

when lessons have turned into splendid confessions of the highest order /// obtained knowledge is gleaned, crossing between imposed boarders. this wisdom endows us with a movement to act!!!! (consider this a dialectical materialist fact!)

proven by the wisdom of my yearning eyes : this chosen potion is as such summarized :

“your taste kept me at pace with the grace of your X’d face.

a rhyme that is followed by a sweet stench – a supplication which has already been quenched.

as the milk on my lips belonged to : your deep refrain …

a song and dance which harmonized and sustained, tho through frustratingly knotted chains!

forgotten in my car: were loaded peanut butter pieces, undermined by the heat found in the creases…

*only remembered when i dropped my phone in between _ BuT WhAt CoUlD tHiS sYmbOlLiCaLlY MeAn?*

as the caramel candy, coated the edges of my sleeve, my outfit realization became ruined inside the exposed cleave.