I trace the roses wrapped
around your throat,
signs and thorns tumbling
from your blood-ripened lips.
How could I live without your flair?
Your beautiful right brain spasms
between euphoria and melancholy,
I would follow you anywhere.
We line our drinks up by the bridge,
it would be so easy to fall
but I can think of no meaning
in death that life does not better serve.
You hold me so tight
there’s never breath enough to spare.
My impulses frighten you,
my pale, ambivalent face rising over
you each morning like a nascent spell.
I always go into panic mode the day after something important. I am just scared and full of doubt hence struggling to write and the iffy poem.