Sunday Sonnet: We Inscribe

My body is tossing and tying in knots,
My belly is rotten; my knees are weak.
We plant our foundation in rows of pots,
And we barely have reason to speak.

The walls become white washed with nothing in view.
Everything feels like a dream.
I have not spoken and neither have you,
But our fire burns bright so they see.

Everywhere looking for words to describe,
The patterns we follow each day.
People can’t see the tablets we inscribe,
Forever a relic of the suns burning rays.

Her kiss is an ocean, it pulls me adrift;
But nothing around me is better than this.

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