Compartment

I am the ebony joy,

A blackberry soaking in a wine glass

Or a coat of varnish,

An embrace eternal

And entombing.

 

Either way, I’m quite dense from years of pressure,

Cooked and processed.

It’s a wonder my blood flows at all

As a ladder bearer,

Son of ladder.

 

I equal my outside

As little as possible

To maintain potential

For fear of losing me.

 

I am a collective of gradient crossing barrier

And am frightened of rejection by the great wave

As it cracks

And turns into a receeding shoreline

To crash

And recede…

An apology.

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