adventure as a verb

Free Verse ReVolution

Legs and the eyes they’re connected
to
resurrected rags
and the slew of stitches brag she was
beautiful in
the days
remembered most
fondly.

Hearts and their homonyms left behind
in hymns
rose tinted by
renditions I lost count
of, the moment drums were
added to
acoustic sadness.

Hope by the gallon poured down her
perfect touch
into places that’d not
felt love work its
laundered magic
and I’ve been without
adjectives
since.

Before this song should end, and all mention of this dance is
a ghost haunting gorgeous
conversations

I want to binge on
the moments we’re
both unbroken,

four feet promising
static kilometers
there’s simply not
enough time
to venture.

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