Faithful

In silence, we clink
our plastic cups

to co-existence.

convex sky 

the shape of wooden bubbles

I have been meaning to rot

but my pupils are stuck to yours

see-through glass is

material made to bend;

we break diamonds for a living

but I still honk like a caged goose

I'm a free thinker but

the Oceans harp on 

songs of salt crystals, trailing

white, blazing

steel, touching 

fingers, running

over two bruised fruits,

the kindest stains on your skin

yes, most kindly,

until side by side, the

dotted line slices down 

the Adam's apple;

she can taste you while 

I take a bite of fettered breath.

I crunch down but god,

the echo feels like 

glass in my mouth.