The Jagged Side

The Jagged Side We’re not just polar opposites. We exist in neighboring galaxies. Still, I’d rather have my dancing soul crash on your rocky surface than to rain down my light on a starless moon. Compatibility is the oatmeal of edible relationships. It’s palatable, yes, but so is cardboard. Keep you Kodak moment, I need my own photographic negative. So screw the placid whispers, growl threats in my ear. Kiss me so hard, I have a lisp the next day. Wrap your hand on my throat, leaving unexplainable outlines. Weave love and death, hate, and wonder in the same poetic hiss, then stare me down until my helix begins to uncurl. I have just three minutes to be unforgettable so I’m coming in for a crashing - no smooth landing, hell no landing at all. I’m aiming for the jagged side of your darkest mountain. Survival is irrelevant. I won’t notice, either way.