𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑜𝑏𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒

6.

Good omens burst under the sky of ravens,
Vague so is it—the time lapse when you stay
And the crowd that blurs in your eyes.

Our eyes end in an identical shape of a star,
The star breaks when we separate our cells
And there's a drop of blood on the side.

Raven pokes at poems on a pink paper
Like it is curious of a grain of life under plastic bags,
The contents spill and the soda stains the ground.

Cloak of infinitely black magic, the chalice is full
Of love, or a feeling that I insist to be called
Love, oh, you are the idea itself, but not the word.

You are scaling snow mountains in bare feet,
Your heart is warmer than the boiling heat, and
I am lacking on the strength of the voice to say your name.

I'm unsettling in the room you have no trace in,
Your feet haven't stepped in, into the hack in
The weak protective password of my heart.

Magic ain't black, and the potion ain't love
If your lips don't touch the brim of my cup,
The tea in it is blessed or cursed, ease of your heart.

The tongue is flickering among the letters
That make up a name that memory itself bows down to,
You are that name, I'm in confusion in lieu of you.

I do laps around the place where we met
In time lapse, the centre is unchanged, so serene
And the crowd has changed ways into a dream.

I am if anything just three marks short of your
Degree of a star in the vacuum of space, the space
Is your aura and I, the international space station—