Let Me In, Darling Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

I am tinkering with the threads
Of the ivies and trellis -
An abundance of moon shards
And slivers.
I planted one of your sockets
And latticed it to the encumbrance
Of the fastidious soil.
You have metamorphed from sunshine
And rain.
You have fondled me with a deluge
From your secretive aqueducts:
The cataclysm, a surreal and bizarre inundation.
You are a torrential rain,
You are a windowpane that dishevels
Into a world different from chaos
And trouble
Havocked by the fidgety hands
Of time and quintessential agony.
Let it rain, darling
The heavens bequeathed you
To me -
I faintly ache
And morosely hope
That you, the indifferent from the crowd,
Are a worthy labyrinthine struggle.
Let it rain,
Let your ivies entangle me,
Let your trellis lure me into a loose path
Straight to your beguiling ornate forest -
I will bushwhack my way into you -
And let the thorns – your sharp thorns
Scathe and sever me.
Let them,
I am imperviously waning
Through your thick rivulets
And thin structures.