Wordle #82 and Firepower

Week 82

What is written here

Must never get out.

These poems are my laotang,

My vacillating,

Weather-beaten placenta.

With my blood,

With the fire in my belly,

My anemic pencil plows

Through beds of fallow ground.

Melancholy scars assist

Their own alphabets.

And I, a melody, a shriek,

A sheet of metal beaten.

The katydids sing

Outside my window

Twitching, impartial

To my nocturnal plight.

I drink lychee nectar

From a ravine, knees muddy

Skin so white

It shimmers in darkness.

I was a ghost once

And in your arms

I am again, slipping

Into your angles

Like a deadbolt fastening.

Oh how I love you

Your sentience and brevity,

The sight of your smile

Inching toward the wisp of mine.

My god we are perfect,

Absence has no cause to soften me

I have seen my purpose in you

As in no other, there is nothing else

To consider, there is only

This awareness and what a gift!