Grasslands Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

"No one can breathe forever, over the serrated grass." You told me, as I was stroking your hair evenly by the seams like rivers.
I grabbed my guitar and chimed away into the lull tranquil green, there you are
Softly smiling as you shake the grounds with subtle breaths
And here, the fires resemble the glint of your eyes, over the mattress that shrouds
The grass.
And you asked me, "What would I do without you? " as I hold your hand, I can
Feel the porcelain of your skin, wrapping mine
The calloused beauty, your capricious wandering and your wasted trifling
With men and the tides of the seas
And these are the moments where I feel most alive - with your flaws and perfections
Just like gifts and curses
You made bare the eyes of the trees like sentries - your scent is carried wanly
Through the landscape like a splendid flotsam.

Underneath the happen-stance; a wonderful set-up, a serendipitous connivance
Here we effervesce with the twilight
As it turns into dawn - we will flutter into ethereal planes. I will tell you
The auguries and the tiny secrets of the cloud-empires.
"Still, no one can breathe forever, over the grass." And that is true - even the
Sparrows know the imminent death over the grasslands
I cup your face, and feel your pulses just to know that while we are lovingly
Wasting away time and as we listen
To the cacophony of the clocks, we learn that we can do anything as long
As I tether myself to you, and you, to me.
And we learn to forget, and send the machineries into abeyance, send our
Erstwhile pangs into oblivion
Still inevitably, we will die over the grass, and soon the people will recount
The impressions left on that bed fancying bedlam
And I couldn't picture any other kind of death: This is how I want it to be
Executed
In the arms of a love, with the saw-toothed grass slicing my skin, losing breaths
As she stills mine.
"You are right. No one lives forever, over the autumnal grass." And we slept
Inside ourselves.