i fell asleep with you on my chest
wanting to absorb your wild, whirling ways,
your absolute devotion
to the divine
but you slipped from my heart
and after eight-hundred long years,
your bones have lost their fluidity.
no longer soft and pliable, you are held
rigid and angular by a flat spine.
be still
for your comforting words and wily wisdom
still drip from the page and unto my wandering soul.
and, if i am lucky, i can taste their sweetness,
like pearls of golden honey, rolling off of my
flicking tongue.
your magnanimous spirit tickles my fancies.
i seek to embrace such grandiose love.
but you slipped from my heart and you wedged yourself
in between my ribcage and the sofa.
and, now, in the dawn's morning light, i am but a
tweaked and tamed human being and you are still.
oh, ridiculous reflection,
you work in such bewildering ways!
