The interior of a relationship is strangely grotesque.
it resembles a vivisection –
taken organ by organ,
they are foul sights for disconcertion
but as a whole,
well,
goddesses of beauty abound.
in that return to child speak
and
incest,
a
noble display –
either
contentment,
or
resentment,
we not in the circle
conclude ourselves the better,
but intellect lost the garden
as surely as
man
thought
to take a woman.
what mind have we
when understanding
destroys the beauty of the
understood
so that now
we know
it was not
Eden after all.