tethered to you, my darling, like a fragile marionette
silk strings made from worms gathering their blue emotions
longing for an overdue petrichor, I yearn for a divine cloud burst
my anchor, yet your strength vacillates floating, sending me out to sea
still, after all these years, you do not identify with my mournful delicate marrow
joyful, gardenia scented summer days in bed, travel down a pathway that is now narrow