Before I Knew

Its a poem.

I began gratefully before his breath flowed to the nape of my neck,
The wavering feeling of right- dead as a drought forsaken river.
It could have been the age, the state of mind, the circumstance,
Freshness of a young lady given to the filth of the giver.

Dirt is my bed from which I allow my sun to set into muddy water,
A lattice of twilight shrouds my blue play.
Hollow against the crest of his turning,
As I being turning away from come whatever may.

Glow now, as I do, when my true presses against me,
Death swells in what I’ve scorched to shine.
I welcome now what once I had shunned,
I holdfast to what I have come to know as mine.