Leeches eat litchi, preach the gospel to flightless kiwi.
The kiwifruit I wish to eat bends unfriendliness,
Towards tea, towards immaturity, their made
Grievous coffee granules collude a collision of acquittals.
Why do the windows to her soul belittle my rebuttals?

She’s better when she cries.
A devilish angel who’s better when she smiles.
An infused accusation used my two deaths
To splatter my painted love for an unridden pinto horse.
Sources of crippled courses paused for ulcers.

Mauled mutualistic souls spoil fertile soil.
Mauled mutualistic souls coil, never to embroil.
Mauled mutualistic souls magnetize, never touch attraction too closely.
Mutualistic souls maul tarnished calls for togetherness.
Devoid of water, my tears may be her bowl of soup for the night.

Lovely lubrication laces her luscious limerence.
Excess pens send inkless sins to insistent abstinence.
Incandescent incantations decant an enslaved faintness from a feinting confidante.
Confidential confidence ensues when she writes poetry on my pupils.
Poor pills, drops of tears on the windowsill; poor appeals to the peels of love I’ve sealed — for her in her heels