Least resistance

If I was a flirt
And you were tired and hung over
This wouldn't hurt
Strung like a shawl round the form of another
Some lover.
I could write this for you.

If I had worked
Was tired and drained through
Lain langurous and languid
With loquacious lips
Whispering witless witticisms, wishes and quips
Would that settle your hips
Like the sea with its tide
Or need set flame to forest
To find what's inside?

If was a flirt
Which I'm scarce known to do
It wouldn't hurt just to tease
I could write this for you.

If I was a flirt, which would be a scandal
I could ornament an ornate handle
For your master-key
Perhaps this passion
Flows lazily, the path of least resistance
Like a river to sea
Just more chemical jewellery to your O2
It's just a piece of art
I could write this for you.

A flirt might mention you
Muse beautiful in presence and poise
But such words are cheap, simply noise
The act up and set up caused in all of the boys
These words are not yet written in true
Muse beautiful
I could write this for you.

II.

Since of course, I'm not a flirt
Seldom even bat a lash or raise an eyebrow to suggestion
But an artist who harnesses complexes for the purpose of expression
I could start to say

III.

There are no words for this
Our language is not shared
It is not created
Yet, its letters
Written in chemistry maps, hieroglyphs of textures
Across the inimiccable lattice
Of each galaxy's atlas
In the gravity created from memory
Between each light at dawn and us
Between memories of the echoed resonance of our spaced bodies.
The true speakers of the language of soul
Have no tongues
Our words are not yet made.