Brindle baby, take me,
maybe this will be the day
when nothing goes our way
and we just have to lie awake,
laughing at the ceiling
as we're reeling in defeat;
meet me in the halfway
on a pathway made of shade.

And we washed away inherent
to the errant and encumbered
as they slumbered unaware,
but I don't care
about the whether of the weather
or the color of the feather
in your cap;
there's a gap between your teeth,
you whistle when you speak
and it's all Greek to me,
though I only want to be
your only.

I want your every side
by mine,
we'll draw the lines we need
in unripe concrete
where small footprints used to reign,
it's all the same
as every time before our petty war,
deplore the superstition
because we're lacking in contrition
for our flaws.

I'll wrap you up
like lollipops in summer heat,
humidity is everything
to you and me,
thick as satisfaction
running down your throat
until you choke
on apathetic empathy
reaching out from everyone between
the seams of simplicity.

Open up your heart
to all that was preceding
in those years we were deceiving—
or maybe just quit fragile,
not so agile as intentions
would portray,
but I can love you so much simpler
than the winter,
than the frosted inhibitions
chipping at my chains;
I only need your name
to pull me under.

Sometimes I can't breathe,
can't leave behind the times;
I'm antiquated, intimidated by
confession, all these questions
swirling in my head
and then I'm dead
before I ever got to say,
"hello, you know…
I love you."

Too late but still I'm waiting
for a better time
to split my lips in sacrifice,
because I can't be wrong
if I just go along
with chastity—
don't ask of me much more.

I implore.