Bloom & Martyr
If you were mine, lash and strawberry. If bound and frail, take charge of me. My caveat, your excavation. Tender crumpled, my blunder, your shoulder, my shorn or hollow. If you were mine, nectarine and cherish. If you were mine, what stings. Tell me brittle, slate and layered, touch me there.
Cinched and knotted, your welling, welling up. Stasis, I trace your spine. Tell me I am, tell me down or dappled and sugar swallow, tell me I am ripened, always ripening, tell me I am sweet.
Glisten, my plum, my causal, seared down to nausea, call me anything you like. Sundry, you lichen like a bit lip, lobed and salted, drawn and tactile, I could make you smile. Grown orchard, your rosehip, my petals, your knuckles forged or spring and frozen. I am melting, my sweet, your sweet thumbs, the frost is biting.
Come now, furled now, travel case and lily. Semi or my stomach bracket, snow and sprouting. If I forage, if I fold and pollen, if I should I should or fumble. Tell me if my lip, my crisp, my zipper silk or swollen, you swell like dust, like pollen. Touch me, my sign my omen, your bloom and nightshade, my lovely rhododendron, my lovely silk and rotten.
Your blush, my chrysanthemum. Your winter frost, dahlia and molten. My shoulder blades, raspberry and tarnish. Your breath, bloom and hemlock. Your frost, your flush, cold blossom, my mouth.