Silver's Good as Grapes

I wish you'd like the tintypes
And their reasoned scars.

We were an item when the sleeves felt
Needful of more warmth from arms.

I've felt my way to modesty near places
We were met with corresponding violets.

"Let me take you to lunch" against the grain
Of present tense to draw energy's drumming the way

Of near-term parsed insomnia where we'd ride
The waking dreams with flair resisting envy.