The Ache of Self Containment

Tuck me into the neat folds
of your skin. Liquid cells gather
minute details of information: they cling
to the hardest parts of me.
Your hands, in the safest places,
gathered at ribs below the pink tinge
of tissue. You let me ramble
in my measure, devoid of any plan.

But...{and this is the rabid conflagration
of devastation}...

...you peer inside these sawdust
eyes; dry films, each border lit
in vile neon: clicking one
empty cartridge after the next—

Yesterday’s Pain
Today’s Anger
Tomorrow’s Fear

I cover the apogee of our
love in the dirty silver vinyl,
throwing off a deluge
of the purest acceptance...

...the only thing I have ever wanted.

The sting is poignant.