Poetry Collection.

"Is It That"

————————

I do not love you for your crooked lip flexed upon your cheek
nor the rippling seafoam flecking in the salt of Carolina

I do not love you for the tender brush of your fingers over layered paints
and envision beneath it portraits of freckled skin
surrendering every crevice and jaundice to beating chemicals

I do not love you with a simple complication
nor unending devotion

I do not love you for the blooming hearts of flowers
nor the hollows in the dark between ripened bone and soul

I do not love you in my pen, nor upon my page,
nor in the whimsy of dream,
for I dream of a drenched love,
a treacherous love,
a love for which my chemical heart beats
and my lumbering soul repines

I do not love the spirit hand tender between my ribs
nor the ache in every atom to be with you

I do not love your heart
but the heart that mine becomes?

————————

(June 12th, 2024.)