Until Our Epic

Got a feeling we could
watch our half lives on
reel and never
feel the
medication working.

Like a candlelit meal where
I kneel before
my love and she repeals me,
darkness in the room conceals
a naked emotion,
favouring
facade.

And thinking of everything I had
a short
eternity ago, my
chassis elopes and all
remaining muscle mass drips
off my bones like
heated wax.

And though the mass
at peak erodes,
yellow growth that pools around
the candle base,

wickers will
dance where
faint drafts lead;

a star-crossed
seed could grow into a
majestic tree, if we only
planted an
ember.

Remove all censorship and don’t
let yourself
be fenced in,
because darling, we’ll burn right
through white pickets,
most alive in
the thick of it, one-way
ticket to reconciliation with our
inhibitions.

Carpet to drapes,
a marksman of teenage waste can hit the shot he always missed.

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