Flawed Perfection

I am flawed perfection soaking in your darkest memories

Nightmare for the dream itself.

Words piling up, driving down nail bent roads.

Wishing that I could dive into the volcanic eruptions of your consciousness.

Break my back, vertebra stepping stools.

Dip into the creases of your collarbone.

Let me get lost in your jungle gym ribcage.

Playing my own music on your vocal cord strings.

Darling let me make you into music.

I will dance inside your aorta make your heart skip a beat.

Playing drums on your lungs I can take your breath away.

I will use my fingertips to carve poetry into your bones.

Write essays with my eyelashes into your lips cradling Grand Canyon creases

Darling let me make you into music.

-M. L. Lewis