feeding off the pheromones of you
there is an instant blush-imprint
of color recognition from your hair.
I can spot you store-wide
amidst the topography of people and goods.
distance physically from you is only time
but not evidence of our closeness.
you are a swizzle to my chemistry,
wireless speakers inside my head.
reality is too many carpeted rooms of you.
I am in need of a walk in the forest of you.
a reality check for ideals and drawnness to occur.
I need faceless jigsaw puzzles
to discipline myself away from colorific,
just shape-seeking from refined focus.
teach me that without saying a word.
I have futures of gratitude yet unpaid.
being-persons feels like a checkerboard existence.
I don’t want move-upon-move as registered
as if we are always dancing
and the music will come
from the instruments by how we interface
as just tuning-forks
all dressed-up as humanoids of distraction.
but we wear each other beyond the know,
is all that matters
yet without substance, definites,
the escort of logic and sensible storylines to follow.
some call it chemistry
as in feeding off the pheromones of you . . .
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