My Love's Chimera.

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I wear my heart on my skin,
seeping through the pours
filling the air with a thick aroma,
drawing you near
with the scent of my sin.

As your fingerprints near my actions
shame engulfs my flittering resolve.
All I want is to put my hand to yours,
compare our contours and see who’s is bigger.

I’m in love with our friendship,
tripping over this patronage.
But you are destroyed by my failure.
When I run, you weep.

One day I will show you
I can be who you believe in.
You will be exalted by my triumph.
When I conquer, you will smile.

I dream of that day,
vivid hallucinations of victory,
your embrace,
I just want to hear those words
without echo.

When someone is proud of me,
a pride that isn’t forced by kin or pity.
That moment will shatter the ice
built to keep my worth frozen in debt.

I must prove myself worthy
of our reflection,
straining to catch a glimpse
without your detection.

My insanity seems extraneous,
smothering to your casual dress.
Given my past,
I defend my addiction to friendology.

I’m obsessed with what can fly,
catch a gust of warm fronted wind
and never come back to me.
If I don’t tie your shoes, you will leave in sandals.

I want to save you from scraping your knee,
from spiders, frogs, airplanes, and tips of pizza.
From the Grinch on the TV, and the carcass in the sewer drain you’re laying in.

The one thing I know I can do,
is protect you.
I might give in to my vices again,
stumble off track and slur into your machine.
But when you have a monster under your bed,
I’ll scare it so badly; it will go to the kid across town.

I wear a mustache to make you smile,
a cape to make you laugh,
and deodorant to make you stay.

One day, when you leave,
I’ll have your print on my arm,
your memory in my heart,
and hopefully forgiveness from my liver.

Luckily my moon still smiles on Stonehenge
the Mighty Egypt Amazon Jungle is still green,
Cecilia dies at random intervals,
the train tracks like chicken,
and I can’t paint in the lines of a mushroom.

I try to ask for you in riddles
so you won’t smell the desperation in my voice.
But in my eyes, it is clear,
why I measure length on a scale.

I gave you spray-on hand sanitizer
so I would have a reason to not be so lonesome.
I’m glad you’re always cold,
so I can keep you warm, even when I’m sore.

I write in the hopes you will accidentally read it
and realize I need you.
I paint in the wishes you will see it
and give me a hug.
I just want a hug.

Thank you for your fingerprints,
your sole identity.
Thank you for your handwriting,
your words to me.





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