[RunAmokRampant]

The Imagination Of Closure

I have managed, little Fawn.
You know I left in between the days like the owls
that grapple with the bending, twilight hour.
Their wings give freedom to flee the lavishness of dawn
while gravity staples me. I curse corrosive mouths
just like Yours. "It's too easy to fill in the gaps". A voice as sour
as yours, has a tongue gifted with a life of expected surprises.
A word of wax compromises

the day that's still not big enough for both of us.
But large enough as your eyes lash out to sing
a melody in staccato inspired gentleness.
Such a flirt is cliche. . . contagious.
So imagine, my feline, imagine the fall without wings
where surprises will catch you and confess.