& yet mine still battle's darkest corrupt,
itching to swallow every inch up;

hunting upon flaws in refusal to believe I'm loved,
some days mind barely echoes a reassuringly 'strong enough,'
yet - your three syllables rattle veins tough;

Truthfully.

the lights hand which keep wishing to embrace,
pulls further away in cosmic race;

but when falling down...
breaking apart as seconds pour about ground,
I gander towards the man mine have become
& the one found.