Studio8 - Uniting the Arts

As if my carnal soul had not been raped
and worked on like some abstract masterpiece—
dark fist-rage decorations on a post-
life virgin trust (the almost size and type
of hearts; anatomy’s dry irony)—
you still ‘to be’ don’t realize my ‘am’
holds certain claims on you? Fidelity’s
objective truth does not subject to ease.
Sweet demons of my growth: I cannot damn
you now, divorce you from what history
has proved my love (idealist broadcast hype,
experience of grace). Who I loved most,
who slapped my face for trust: please never cease
to know that you are just as I am shaped.

brilliantly said, joel

a touch of grace in abject betrayal

This is really good.
Reads like an intense, deep, face to face conversation.

Powerful, tasty, satisfying.
H

Ah...your words set me adrift in pillows feathered with heaven's issue.