I searched to quarrel In
Your graves and decided to
Ignore the religion.
Repeatition Became disorganized
And each capital birthed an
Identity. We captured days and
Mornings passed away with
Smiling crossed fingers. Literary
Cramps of polite destruction
And rebellious bows.
Today you were born
Out of freedom cries
And the belonging suddenly
Jolted a baroque sentence.
Stamina configured from
Your dry smile and the scents
Of betrayal succumbs the tomb
Of broken down steps towards
The ancient thick of
Antique echoes.
There you were;
With eyes unaccomplished.
I am done with your ink
I am done with this
Permanent shadow
Because I am your writer
I am your dream in
A written
I am yours
And everything.
Inside me black
Has been burned to your
White virgin eyelids.
