[Split Eight]

relationship-centric and blue,
men were never meant for the moon.
I could weather a tempest but never the dew-
let us preface tomorrow's tonight
with an arugment. fight. it's better with two,
play bard to the temptress in step to a harrowing tune
her curves carve like a spine. marvel and swoon.
your hands felt like mallets. she's drenched in undress.
a cliffside demeanor's just candlestick balance
pressed through her dress. every fire consumes.
I hang from old flames like the notes of a pandering ballad
weighted with sand for a ballast
and you and I knew would never resume.