lady bugs kissing on feathers
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lift me up, birds of praise,
I'm sinking in the spaces
of this unholy void.
She twirls with her lace,
and momentarily paces,
this cemetery is wired
hidden in darkest grit soils.
if our passion builds a fire,
elementary of the passion
we even forget our names.
As our eyes staked to claim
awkwardly drawn together,
so newly shyly terrifying,
if the spark wasn't mystifying,
lady bugs kissing on feathers
Copyright © Ryan Geoffrey Hayward | Year Posted 2025
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