You’re not the tea type, to me. Ancient you aren’t.
You think you are. But I think you’re raspberry hot chocolate.
Take this endless cup. With my reckless invitation.
Delve. Repair into the wild, earthen past and the rich insanity ahead.
We, hot chocolates in hand, casting our cares. Setting a spell.
I wonder if my eyes weren’t broke
Had they not spent their last red cent
Denying warning flags and the like
What would I see instead of circles
Sad, red circles, dark cycles
Looking like pendulums and roller coasters
Would I see I’ve chased my tail
Someone else’s short-sighted plans
And not at all my own red heart
What is it I want?
Lightning from your fingertips
Baseball talk with you
You were spoiling me, delivering the morning news to my doorstep
Changing headlines to all that I needed to read, nothing less
You were educating me, either that or reprogramming my heart
Carrying its weight for free, lightening the burden of beating again
You were reminding me of me, the me I was and am and cannot never be
Speaking life into an atrophied smile, why’d you die?
Disallowed to feel; love or lust or hope or trust, this is how I feel.
Discouraged to want; kindness, presence, endless laughter, this is what I want.
Disinclined to think; hope is dead, no heart, all head, that’s no way to think. 
A wide, unwavering band that binds
Advertise it in the stars
As an Orion’s Belt to warn
The unsuspecting
Wholly unwilling
Now repentant, unintentional prey
A stance in arms-crossed
Body language clear and bright
As a banner, broadcast
In social contract, we dance
Lest a heart meander beyond
Boundaries, damn it, boundaries!
I decorated myself with you
Reached, but in no way grasped
Sprinkled you about me
Without the care whether or where
You landed
Beautifully, making a mess
Twice, I was asked incredulously
Is this safe
LisaRosier.com 