...other metastatic failures

Contrite sweetness,

feel me on saccharine sheets

masking leveled edicts of
commanding generosity

because I
feel you ache-wishing
you could break
into
the seething shades
of sunlight leaving
each crystalline breath--

it's a promise, lover,

     working toward nonchalance

I'll choose not to see your
slowly shrouded high-rise
lies.