I lay in his room with the stench of Day.
Bare and untrying like the glass window tapping.
We rest like simmering battle.
The booming erupts into the walls.
A perfect heaven with plenty a wound.
I am alone dressed in lazy eyed moonlight.
When the glowing ripples there is no orange or sun.
Just my waiting for his Thunder.
Whilst the storms conjure in my looking.
There just oceans, he says.
Rowing and rowing.
The rowboats are flooded with pride and desire.
I am more than his saving.
Little of his care and my blooming.
Yesterday, I was beautiful and even woman
Today, I am your Art to feel without feeling.
He thinks he Loves me.
A taker of my glowing and my Tao.
He lies like a perfect Man.
“I Love You” the words slithering from his lips.
Like I haven't met him before.