It was my fault
I placed
Myself
Gently
In his arms
In that kingdom
Of male privilege
In his bed between us
There was that
Love
That force
That empty crushing
Presence of
Him
During our rest
Above me
I see the
Asexual angel: him her me
Reflecting our
Yin and yang division
Pervasive
But welcoming
We are wrapped and rooted intricately
Reminding me of
Forest floors
In his bed between us
There is an angel
With this confrontation
I wonder:
Do you understand
This schism which
Transcends
Cosmic heights
Revealing the illusory mask
Of our
Contradiction called
Love?
