Chameleon

Blood stopping in watery spaces
Flooding slow scars
Worn deep


Scent trapped in my fingertips
Blue-green, magenta and black
Unbuttoned, stuttering memories
Play touch-and-go
Through arches of muscle and sinew

Sometimes...

This absolute tired shell
Others,
You
Friend of mine
Who I constructed
With the greatest importance
And softly
softly
Tried to steal

You
Who rarely recognizes grey
I, in my sea-depth
And complete

Utter
Redness

Could we have melded in tie-and-dye richness...
Did we give up a miracle?