Synthetic elation traces creases
of enthusiastic pleasure with light rays
of warmth climbing above the horizon.
Crushing my spirits beneath your stiletto
gives you a mental orgasmic climax.
Your fist-thrashing cowardice
begged me to die before nightfall.
The sun is setting on me, kissing your
What’s that about me being lonely?
We’d both love to know.
(© 2022 AC)