The incomplete me of my dried up nail paint
The capricious you of your self proclaimed air —
We were seas covering worlds apart,
She, the strait in between, there.
Let me set ablaze the hues of your pent up canvas,
Let me the blues be;
Or the tattoo, that your skin was hit
Yet un-arrowed, your heart was free.
See me beyond lips and eyes?
See me ever beyond Her?
Oh, She’s nothing but a luring sedative!
And I, the vial, savouring tar.
There you go, my gift to the world,
There She goes, my pain —
You shall be my purloined verse,
She, The Hypallage, again.