I am rooted to the place that we met
in mind, body, spirit, melding, rotten
thy face, thee, be ridiculous, upset
Sick, the thought that I could have forgotten
*
Earth-bound the pair of us are, but not yet
Thine optical windows gorge on minutes
My grasp may weaken and thy grip may fret
But to think my mind brute with your likeness
*
Dost thou truly believe that I forgot?
And well, something of you now slips my mind
Be it the same damn thing that fell my heart?
O’er the hills bleeds the sun, coach dense with pine
*
Of this, hear me, direly, don’t let go
Evermore, thy devotee, thus locked so