i.
desolation raped the vine.
blackest ink pouring through
astonished fingers—the wound
a crack in the crown.
it is not known
if the damage is repairable.
seal it
with fool's gold for now
and carry on
as if all has gone
according to the divine plan.
ii.
if wanting you
was sin let me
confess it now
and be absolved.
if i was not mistaken
to be wary, i am
wary now. it was not
your time or place
to speak of love.
love is not love
when it has been
corrupted by fear.
even a single impurity
renders the data moot.
from this,
i have only learned
to be more careful
when trying to walk
in god's footsteps.
YOU ARE READING
Rocket Fizz
PoetryA collection of decidedly bad poems written by yours truly Surprisingly not really about space
