Falling in love is /
                                        / like missing the point,
     hitting the edge of the velvet petal
     of an orchid slipping between a nail
     and its bed, a trembling finger tripping
     over picking the perfect word to say
     what cannot be said, giving a fuck when
     indifference would be better off spent
          instead, treasure bled when kissed by a prick.

                    Blushing a lip is /
                                        / like quivering hits
     Cupid intends his arrows to give, fists
     closed like minds mouths open to let inside,
     tongues alight with molten blaze broken hearts
     ignite, when in the omnipotent s(le)ight
     of fortune’s palm, turpitude’s dishonest
     hand draws no alarm as its fingers walk
          unkind cards, raven(ou)s wings (b)eating off.

                    Mates swallowing souls /
                                        / sigh while drawing (s)words
     on canvases devoid of art, hurting
     walls scrawled solid with graffiti of doors,
     netherworlds of lovers never spoken
     of again, insignificant visions
     wandering forests Virgil and Dante
     forage for meaning, when on grey moorings
          angels burn old versions hell’s teeth sever.

                    Biting flesh to break /
                                        / in its tolerance
     we never say no, just now whenever
     dreams test our trust in the Selves we limit,
     letting go only if our pulses show
     what stressed hearts beat and weak knees bend to know,
     that treasure bled when kissed by a prick rich
     and richer than the pressure of impure
          thoughts inhibited by unmet desire.