(Adam and Eve)

You, with your chocolate dipped words
so rich and craveable to my mind
last as long as steady night does
hailed by thousands of flying stars
and wandering clouds passing me by
clear view of sky and green canopy
all where my senses are perfect for
misty falling rain, sunrise colors,
powdered butterfly wings, feathers and
free singing birds in trees with fresh fruits,
I know nothing but bare neutral here
in this place held together by vines
twisting up our sides and around us
fingers closed clam shut to the other
where the green mosses and brown ends grow
flowers, shiny leaves, unavoidable thorns
tickling our nerves we pretend not to feel
beneath our natural robes of skin,
that skin which I never thanked you for,
even where you gave me everything
reaching to the sun and to the moon
hiding in the soft earth and clean liquid
as peaceful and clear as perfection;
but I wondered and asked
about the one flaw, that one crack
I had to peek into, I had to
because you never explained a thing
but what you gave me, what I know now
as forbidden peace, happiness, grace
so sweet and loved, what I left behind
and now endure twisted thoughts, mirror mazes
inside my shadowed head, no answers
no marshmallow truth, soft, sweet and light
to lay my head on in this black smog
coating my lungs and blistering mouth
where no songs leave me but confused bits
stumbling through my knotted hair and
I process in small bits and pieces
one grand illusion pieced amidst
oil spills and dry lakes, forests without trees
crackling land and poisonous killing eyes
looking for blood to warm my cold hands
but it is spilled, one puddle in front of me
starting to dry crusty on my feet
where there is nothing else to clean me
there is nothing to hide my broken body
but gray harsh concrete crumbles and dust
ashes smeared on my arms, hands, and face
from when I gave up caring for anything,
when I let everything go because I thought
I could never go back to those perfect lands;
I am stained and punctured, missing part of me:
I am missing your part of me;
that part that is in me somewhere, I know it
precious and small, wound in wire and nails
leftover from bombs and tanks and chains
I know that it is in me, somewhere,
for I have always felt it burning
haven’t I?
you still love me, and I know you do
and you can wash my wounds, you can heal me
so I can clean up the mess I made
there is nothing left to say except
sorry,
but even now, it is beautiful
see what is often forgotten here:
the souls which I drape my arms around
the admired lives which I gave warmth
the perfectly crooked things that grow
the pools of clear waters and green land
the smell of pine needles in the sun
the thunderstorms to rock me to sleep
the hope etched deep into wrinkle lines
what was once perfect was never lost
just forgotten about for knowing
what I thought could be your flaws
thank you

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