Denial may be satiation, premature.
Or it is mediocrity that lives in purpose.
Denial is hunger imagined to be feast days.
Denial is sleep when the word prayer escapes.
Denial is not sugar, for sugar faces reality materially.
Denial is love, misguided, hopeful, as well as blindness to
tantrums culled like tangled hair roughly combed after showering.
Love is not denial. Love is not sugar. Love is not rough or misguided, even.
Love is observed, experienced, traveled like cartographers map land mass: careful, precise, knowable,
time making.
Love is sure and shifting, like denial when missing a love companion in an unnamed quantity satellites
ping.