If you remain in me and I in you
You will bear much fruit
You’ve spent your life
chasing chances
The promise of potential was far preferable to reality
Keep the promise the promise
Don’t bring it to actuality

Apart from me
You can do nothing
It is sadism
A hell of dependence that the mystics call bliss
Dependence is vulnerability is weakness
I want to be weak

I am the vine
You are the branches
The air tonight is warm and still
There is something floral in the air
It reminds me of you and I paw at my rosary
Lacquered wood passing over fingers
No prayers pour from my lips
What have we done?
I lose my memory of you bit by bit
Something stirs on the branches of the trees
Make me weak