for cassandra, who breaks my heart daily in the best ways.
my tongue to make sweeping statements
over your definite articles, even though
you are not ready for the contractions
promised in our portmanteau
your vocals vibrating...
you want me more as i occupy less
and less of the shifting atmosphere
often magenta in hue
but lately a rotten, mottled pumpkin
whenever i am around you
i watched you look at me