Oh Olivia
Your ashed coat seems to be a mere coax of lies
You pad around billowing smoke watching them pass by
Their dilated, unmoored eyes only look above
Perceiving you as a wistful brush
One that only transpires to rust
Deemed a loon to be leery of
What a reel to see
They forage on the streets
It’s a morass as they can’t see the occasion
Their ill serendipity relying on a skipping penny when in downpours
If only they saw the rendezvous synchronization
Antithetical to their motion captured folklores
But screen your fret from the mythical meet
My worked shadows won’t put all your stars to death
They can be my clovers lying in a heap at your feet
But only if you dare look down to the ground
Will the backlogged luck come abound in vast heaths
Bury the hatchet gaze
It’ll bring in a violet haze
Germinate your heartwoods
Charm the faith forgotten land where you stood
Crimson kudzu vines intertwined within your evergreen
Only to be bereft of your quiet maladies if I am seen
A truly fortunate and gold expanse to be catched through the glimpse of the foreign sight you once dismayed due to those who went astray
