Renaissance

Beautiful ties between.
Sadness, slick grieving.
Wings alight with the fire of punishment--
laughter, and soaring mirth.

Sopping frontal cortex--
you are my honey, my cream.
My bleating vocal beating;
my love;
timeless ache.

Meet your eyes with mine, breathe
into me your life. Aguey agate eyes,
be mine, love. Mine.
I love you for all-time.

You, you, you--
I am my mother's son.

(and though we are wholly unbegun--
lucid dreamers, looséd tongues--
we are not yet undone;
we are holy; thusly unbegun)