Godly

The way you delineate me
On a leaf of plain paper
So my edges aren't straight,
But your fingers smudge the
Pencil anyway, so it doesn't
Matter.

The way you fly over me and
You moan in agony, or so
I hear from your mouth when
You touch me and smudge my
Edges in insanity.

I'm told I need this.
Because you are not my
Antithesis, but you moan
In agony to me and I
Thrust my chin up toward
The moon and howl,
But I will not lie.
You are not my agony.