Plot

January 16, 2015

She speaks in soft whispers
And I take the messages from
It
And place the binding in you.

Here
She rests in Peace
And confounding bliss
Spires of beauty
Entwined in me.

She’s a part of you, too.
An awkward tirade of sorts
She conspires agenda.

To what was.
What once will be.
Her pleasure is yours.
Will you not act
Upon your time.

I will not.

Singular or not.
I am here.