flesh, all but absent, brings deaths and prisons

Internal turmoil, I want to know your salt,
Rubbed in wounds, capitalized, underlined, italicized,
An avoidable bolded issue of the highest degree.
To think that it would be waiting for me, as always,
A question unanswered brings stinging tears trailing, and it whispers,
“I walked around as you do, investigating the endless star;
and in my net, during the night, I woke up naked;
the only thing caught, a fish trapped inside the wind.”
Scrape the innards, leaving hollow,
Not an answer.
Only spoken sadness, left hanging in the air,
Intimate in its isolation,
And beautiful as it lies in wait.
Don’t be shy, Sunshine,
Love overcomes, in all its burning glory,
Fall in love with what they told you, what I told you.
Flesh, all but absent, brings deaths and prisons,
Unwelcome reminders of failures and dangers,
Kiss them asleep, to a hundred years of solitude, unawakened.