Love Song

In a blaze, unable to adjust,
he lays his all upon the surface
and keeps within reach.
He finds himself at an angle.
Surreptitious, him she can entangle
solely if she chooses.
The smallest hour looses its fiends.
He feels it in the fingers.
What the bringers of this brunette doom
had all but dislocated.
Now her lick is turned against him
in all the right places.
Easing not the variance,
she resonates under suspicion.

-r. miller