In Battle Of Amour Propre

Bloodline was in airlock.
Unlimited pique―
to move the wheel.

Shutting the door behind,
you face the moon, who
was walking in grief.

In my universal pain,
I enter a poem to
explore the omnipresent void.

Where will you go―
to find the peace of the
wrecked ship at the bottom of sea?

Carry me like a wounded
lion in blood, and fangs.
Only the eyes reflecting your image.

I will not put on a
call, there was nothing left to declare.