You have to like what time does. Each day I talk to the part
of me that is my beloved from a tiny telephone in me.
I communicate in the clicks and beeps of our abbreviated tongue.
Love is a long trial, a wending, and an uneven effort.
I hate the word faith, but that's all there is. Only
the last one standing knows the score. Think of the types
of violence on a continuum, and toward the mildest
end is love. I’m torn by you! I scream when my beloved
pulls at our bond. I'm an alien host or we are two yous
subsumed by a single body. The beloved says, You changed
my brain; and I am at that mercy, which is meant
as a warranty for longevity, but there is no real promise:
you keep knowing each other and knowing each other.
No comments:
Post a Comment