You
are the image of my beauty.
(You
thought you had me
But
here is my wisdom, my honesty).
I
feed on lyric, and wash your face
In
the waters of my torpored eyes,
Because
you to me are a cityscape
The
ruggedness of industry
You
inflame horizons in your achievements.
Whatever
disgusts me about me
Is
cured by the facts of your beauty
The
crooked architecture
That
bends under the sadness
In
your shoulders.
If
sunlight was music
Your
voice would notate it
In
its pitch-perfect brokenness.
Your anger makes your suppleness
Dangerous.
Your bluntness kills.
You cry tears that burn.
You kiss with a mouth laced in acid.
Your eyes are burst fruits
Weeping daylight's fluids.
You are the image of my beauty.
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