I regress into an abscess of
historical references brought
on by a rhetorical flourish
for generic responses fraught
with dangerous levels of stress.
Just as an oracle predicts
future events amidst indifference
I must be honest to what comes next
which is a natural irreverence
at even the best esoterics.
Presently tense & half-past due
when trouble ferments revolution
through rose-colored glasses full of booze
so we choose a partial solution
involving the clothes of a statue.
You disarm me in such an alarming fashion
as if this feeling is like anything
I have felt before. Where does one even begin?
With the butterflies that reside inside of me,
the size of giants, stirring up wellsprings of my
inner being with sentiments of your fancy
and comely eyes on iridescent wings.
You delight me to reunite truth and beauty
just as I wish for my lips on your hand,
through a soft whisper, sumptuous beyond lovely.