i am an empty suit of armor, a
sword scabbard, a stump, a target,
a thin sheen of ice along her
pulmonary painstutter

watching the frozen world spin
backwards, every good intention
reversed, every utterance of love
gone unseen, unread, unwanted

vitriol and virtuosity evenly
decrease the viscosity that keeps
my steam powered heart vibrating
vicariously in virtualization

and yet the sun ignores my pleas,
resting in mercurial animosity
above the woolen gray clouds, as i
seek a single glimpse of light

no matter how loudly i scream,
these bullet ants in my sinuses
relish in my pain, stinging with
every pulsating desire for her

my love rains through the aether
to keep her roots from ever
feeling thirst, as i hold back so
as to not wash away her heartsoil

my heart screams for you in
rusted gasps that fall short
behind the coarse threads binding
my lips into frustrated knots

she is a field of wildflowers, the
sweet summer breeze frought with
promise, a sigh, a smile, a
glimmer of hope in my tragic