I thought there was one brewing

I thought there was one brewing,

Boiling over, unmanned, stewing.

 

No one else mown so cleanly just

Solid, scattered with pink frost

 

While trailing ‘others nights apart, outside,

Wary of life and words that lie beside

 

Empty halves and piled up pillows.

Reluctant even to come to blows.

 

Impaired intact divisive decision

Denied the body force of binding vision;

 

My right and left hung insecure

By distant doubts and architecture.

 

I thought there was one brewing,

Boiling over, unmanned, stewing.

 

Wrecked in stirred contraptions,

Careering loss in mannered factions,

 

Teasing status to upright reception

Of curls in permanent reflection,

 

All the while, noting potency.

Floating air in stocky currency

 

Exchanged in bed for rockets

And hope. Smiley face, brackets.

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