Pietà

[CRNDLSM]

Edit 1: 

it was forbidden whispers, burning, I like the intro 
branding calligraphy against our skin—is this Michaelangelo signature as well?
fractured lullabies, (my gods, my love), 
bittersweet dahlia crumbs does dahlia crumble?
(as fodder for clipped pigeons)—why are the pigeons clipped, pets?
that will always mean something,
nothing.does this mean anything?

it was sanctuaries they were sanctuaries?—the ones enveloped by dirty sheets, why dirty?
billowing curtains, housing a homicide of tangled (carved, battered) bodies. Is this two extra adjectives to describe tangled? Then why include tangled. 
fingers entwined, melting perfectly into evolved gaps 
(the grandest of canyons, the blackest of voids)—I think youre trying to describe perfection but can't find the words, so include more words, on to infinity 
as though they were meant to hold each other
for forever and ever; forever?
for a binary infinity.

it was fingertips grazing, tickling (trickling and weeping like hail), are all the it's relating to the statue, does the title refer to the statue, my whole critique here is based around what I know about a statue, and what I can imagine someone Maybe experiencing in the presence of the statue
circling and hunting within oxidized sub-saharan plains.
we go up and then we come down,
(a spinning carousel: first there was a seed and then came the apple) sometimes the explanations need explaining it could be explained another way
we flew up (breaching the heavens) and then we dived down 
(christened with a gold medal from a formaldehyde babel).is a babel a string of words?

it was an expedition of sacred (blasphemous), archaic territories. I like this line 
hesitance (my gods, my love, please stop us);
knowing—loving—how desecrating we are: 
prostitutes of the forlorn, existentially jaded and biblically stoned.I like this line as well
hesitance (strung out on tomorrow);
knowing—enchanted with a lust, a greed, for passion;
two selfish, callous ships following erotic sirens (i love you, i love you, i feel like you just introduced a new character, cause I have no idea who you're talking to
my gods, do i love you).

it was your secured limb snaked around my carcass,
fastened, tightening, choking like bondage (my gods, i can't breathe)plural gods interesting
bequeathing my soul to never falter—
us, stumbling (stuttering), drunk actors.are we drunk and choking, you?
prescribed the only medical regimen for anxious fools.

it was this; this staged homily, preaching for alleged tomorrows, self referential to the poem?
the genesis of seven days (a continuous stream of light
in a consuming tunnel of onyx)—why onyx?
this could be our ubiquitous infinity. 

it was cleft lips I don't like this, iodine deficiency?, cracked and dried by the sands of time, 
trespassing—barely there—
skimming with such unceremonious speed.the lips?
it was lazy moments of reluctance:
devouring, savoring honeysuckle, bliss-filled moans—
drowning in the swollen nectar of the insatiable.
us: pharaohs, gods of dimensions and creations, 
parsimoniously indulging, haughtily hoarding all of life's wine. Indulging in superfluity

it was shared laughter: (effervescent, evanescent);joy at completing or being in the presence of the statue?
radiating, echoing within the permeable chambers
of our labyrinth: this was for me and for you;
it is for me; and it is for you. Tense changes for what? I have no idea where I am

it was blushing secrets: (no, please, we shouldn't)
shared with (bleak) opalescent willingness.
thrusting desires to the beat of our fibrillating hearts.
us: the fountainhead of evolution, 
gilded parents, burying a multitude of children;
tombstones sculpted with the name of "shame."what's shameful?

it was finally unleashed—gates of heated passion ruptured open.
saccharine euphoria oozing as though from a sun-ripened peach
it was perfection, beautiful, and it was fervently revered; 
it was stigmatized with the premonition of heart-rendering ischemia; this sounds more like a Teresa of Avila statue 
hog-tied down (my love, we must get back up) and unhinging our demineralized bones
from their homely sockets.I feel like your adjectives are all over the place

it was love.

it was over.
Honestly I like the original better by a long shot, I think some of my questions still apply, but then again maybe I'm thinking of a statue and you're not, hope it helps.

Original:  

it was forbidden whispers burning against our skin—
fractured lullabies, bittersweet nothings,
that will always mean something,
nothing.


it was us being enveloped in dirty sheets,
barely covered tangled bodies. 
fingers entwined, melting perfectly into evolved gaps—
as though they were meant to hold each other
for forever and ever
and eternity.

it was fingers grazing and tickling,
circling and trailing up and down,
up and down,
sacred, unknown territories. 
hesitance, 
knowing of how desecrating,
how forbidden these moments were. 
hesitance, 
knowing of how much we desired
love and of how much we were willing
to express it.

it was your strong arm wrapped around my torso,
vice-like grip never 
faltering, utterly refusing to let go.
we both accepted:
this was it—
this moment,
this 
single
day,
could be our 
never—
ending—
infinity.

it was lips barely touching,
skimming with such lightening speed;
short moments of reluctance
where we’d savor our honeysuckle, bliss-filled
lips against one another, never wanting to part.
drowning in the swelling nectar of our insatiable throats—
us: gods, of dimensions and creations, 
selfishly hoarding all life’s wine.

it was shared laughter and endless words,
radiating throughout the room.
for me and for you,
for me and for you—
for only us two. 
the secrets we willingly shared
untouchable desires 
finally unleashed.

it was perfection.
it was beautiful, sweet,
heartrendering, disastrous.

it was over.