The Jagged Side
The Jagged Side
We’re not just polar opposites.
We exist in neighboring galaxies.
Still, I’d rather have my dancing soul
crash on your rocky surface
than to rain down my light
on a starless moon.
Compatibility is the oatmeal
of edible relationships.
It’s palatable, yes,
but so is cardboard.
Keep you Kodak moment,
I need my own photographic negative.
So screw the placid whispers,
growl threats in my ear.
Kiss me so hard, I have a lisp
the next day. Wrap your hand
on my throat, leaving
unexplainable outlines.
Weave love and death,
hate, and wonder in the same
poetic hiss, then stare me down
until my helix begins to uncurl.
I have just three minutes to be
unforgettable so
I’m coming in for a crashing -
no smooth landing, hell no
landing at all.
I’m aiming for the jagged side
of your darkest mountain.
Survival is irrelevant.
I won’t notice, either way.
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