Crescent in the Murk

I’m sexually confused,
Infused with the feeling
To my pain I’m revealing
A melancholic indulgence
With you.

The suffering’s appealing
Though insight tis so few.
I’m not new to the weight
Of your vulnerable excess,
A crescent traced behind
The trespassed fervour
Heavy on your shoulders
Like your words for this world.

A verve for spirited dispirit curdled
Deep in my stomach
Interwoven with the whirl
Of our childlike purity
When we were last involved.

My romance shan’t dissolve easily
For not who,
But for what I be around
Crescents like you.
A pensive naivety
In I, soaks through
The claustrophobic cotton wool pillows
Comforting blind certainty.

You turn in me
A beauty worth being,
A beauty worth fleeing
From her own tendencies,
Amending straightforward trails
To an off road confidence,
A ‘fuck you’ providence.

I hide letting pillows suffocate
The unaccepted affection for the curious,
Yet I know wisdom lies beneath
The rehearsed line of desire and hurt
Impressionable naivety succumbs.

I’m exhausted of regret
For your own wound’s attention
Closed, then undone with every conversation.
My sensitivity invades the dance of your misery
Until claustrophobic dormant is where I follow it
Once again.

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