Horrible Rare Love Poem #16 (When the sun decides to die)

There are three of you
with the perfect pitch
Crossing the Is
and dotting the Ts
Without you I feel alarmed
to the comfort in my knees
I cannot abstain from loving you
like a house in the shrubs
to the vacuum of the seas
There are warrants for co-conspirators
donning the wake
of the open house fire

Celebrating the wedding
like a broken walking shore
There are no longer feet
shattering the waves
of time without you
Where do I want to appease
the standing order to fall for you
There is no need to calculate
my ordeal is like a 90s indie film
I will obsess about your eyes
until the sun decides to die