Would you rather

Open,

Yourself,

To me.

Like the wings of a bird,

or his lips to chirp.

The clouds which he herds,

or wind which his feathers

flirt.

Where your arms are released,

your fingers do not retreat.

Where your pupils dilate,

and your lips

separate.

May your heart divide to divisions,

and your love submit to my submissions.

Where the only thing that matters is our matter,

even if you shatter and scatter.

Why

Do some scatter when there’s flatter,

I would rather

matter.

Would you rather

Open,

Yourself,

To me.