Embracing

This can't work out.
 
worlds apart, yet busy counting the lines on fingers
intertwined
spaghetti knots, tongue and hair
disproportionate blending of ecstasy and despair
convoluted
verbal pathways, life's directions,  
the contention of her convictions
invaluable purity
 
the nectarous tones of her chords
play the keys of my organ
steal the key from my vehicle
become the key to finding serenity
 
electricity and fire
high tension power lines
every pore a volcanic vent
one glimpse and I'm dead
 
she won't let me die
paradise, heaven, valhalla
in her bosom, in her arms
I wholeheartedly concede
 
change, still there are pyres burning
platonic
soul, bound; tongue, slit
a season to ingenuously dispirit
simple
life's decisions, no inhibitions,
staying true to all convictions
immaculate diligence.
 
I want this to work out.