Fight or flight responses

Get back to me.

On a cordate table
a meal sits for one, going cold
under an orange lamp, once full of juju.
Head propped on hands, you're full of lethargy.

Once I believed in the benevolence of God, restlessly.

Your indolent heart and mercurial shadow
share
a half-cooked recipe gluttony
and loneliness served.

I peer inside
unabashed and still
bearing the glimmer
of the city's lustful men,

Junoesque.

You find me snooping,
catch my wrists, pin my hips, unsteadily breathe across my throat
without the smile I always believed in.
The smile made you aflame, almost

Herculean.

Please search again, in your pockets, for the enchantment you've misplaced.
Alas I'll find comfort and collect your lovely eyes,
in the mean time, they're terribly valuable.
I'll wear them

on the Rakhi thread
around my left wrist while I smoke and drink and inject you out.
My lover, leave all self-doubt
at my unstable feet.

Psalm 69 21

Such a nailed, tortured marvel.
Where this simple love is flexible
it flows and moves around our worldly afflictions
for a smirk that spurred ideas of antiquity.

I cannot say the three words

but I have faith in them
for when you are the Sun once more
sharing space in the sky with my celestial crescent
our conversations will be more fruitful.