an innuendo
an innuendo
That’s all it took.
All I want is to miss you—
to miss this.
As beads of sweat
pour out of my pores,
as minutes turn into hours
in which every thought I have
formed, malformed, misinformed.
In which I thought.
For which I think.
Who am I
with or without you?
I am all yours,
regardless of taste,
regardless of how disingenuous
all of which we stand for
and with.
I am yours.
Forever grateful to myself
for being a part of the journey
which guided the way—
the light.
The streaming colors
of red, blue, green,
yellow, and purple.
I know now
that I am the part of you
that you will bleed for.
The part of you
that you will miss
in every misinformed step,
every mistake,
every properly planted foot
into the soil
of who and what
you will become.
I am you
as much as
I am yours.
Forever intertwined
in the universe built
within the consciousness
of everlasting silence,
of the stars
in which we grasp
our little moments
of tranquil stillness.
We are.
Ours.