They see the sharp facets,
With their inherent adoration of its viridity,
Encircled by a lustrous halo.
The banqueters need a closer look
And request holding her pallid palm
For the chance to caress it lightly.
Yet here I linger inside her ring,
The golden spheres of air crawling up my face,
Imprisoned in the fathoms of an emerald
Undersea.
I am sealed by her machinistic grin
Floating, sinking, whirling
As if by whim of her moods.
My love for her I once thought true and pure,
Her love for me measurable by coin.
Here I sink
Helpless and blank as a statue
Waiting silently for when she is ready,
When my voice no longer irks her,
Ready to be my life again.
I wonder
If God knows these hidden places
And if the angels have it better,
Being born where none know tears.
The toxic green water curses my eyes
For veiling burden and weakness
As a prize.
But she knows better than me
Because I love her, said she.
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