Spelunk into the warm dark love throbbing gripping to not let go slick
with salt and semen cave of my heart.
Once there, climb up the walls limber up those vast expanses where each
hurt and each harmonious chorus is etched in swatches of turquoise.
Your clumsy efforts to find a foothold in this cold tundra is leaving
petechiae all over my skin.
But then you like to mark everything.
I give you a book and it comes back blushing with crimson.
A photograph and the colours are more vivid, the features are more
soft.
A poem and a line is changed and the ending questioned.
A dish and the ingredients switched. Blood oranges for lemon zest.
Chocolate for most everything.
What chance does a fragile breath hold against such tenacity?
Make it yours.
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