UNBRUISED MAN

© Breeze Vincinz

If I were to spread myself like honey with butter
I still don’t think it would inspire your hunger
Blame is not on the softness or the sweetness
And there isn’t an obligation for you to swallow

I want so much for you to maybe hold my hand
Maybe appreciate my stillness when there’s too much wind
There are certain truths I want to tell you
Maybe get under the surface, get to the marrow

And he says, “I’m a porcupine, and you’re a fool to want to get stuck.”
And I say, “Show me an unbruised man, and I’ll show you one foolish fuck.”

I notice that I do push myself on you
like a cartoon band-aid on a gunshot wound
like an answer to a hypothetical question
like a Krispy Kreme to a diabetic

Like an evil obese man waiting to be devoured
divinely in the eye of a needle in his final hour
I always thought love and delusion were identical
You think the marrow is that they’re diametric

Taken out of context, there could be poetry in this dissension
Enchanted by the grapes when it’s the vine that needs the attention

And he says, “I am tethered to my past, that’s why I can’t budge.”
And I say, “You should know by now that love is what love does.”

Give me something sweet, like tea or cream
Something soft on my lips that reminds me of dreams

I remember when we used to look at the sky at night
And those constellations would give us the most beautiful light

And how I miss
looking at the stars with you

How I miss being underneath
those stars
with you

If you were to spread yourself like the red or orange
on a rainy morning whose fiery sunrise has that much courage
I would wet myself with all your hues
And beg to retain the colors of you