The thought of rose wine comes to me when I touch your lips and I fall away deep into the natural laws of the cosmos— the best love is the one which is unexpected, long nights of lost sleep and deep conversation, I watch as expression changes from bewilderment to delight in the garden of your mind; your eyes a form of provocation which seek the stories in mine.
Have I told you just how baffling it seems? To adore one with all their flaws and beauty the way you seem to accomplish with me— I am taken by the curve of forgetting the storms
of past decades which laugh at the approach of midnight.
If innervation is first then let me taste fully the extent of your kiss— berry-sweet, causing me to make brave wishes; I’d do anything to make your heart sing, guide your hands irresistibly with my voice. You are the sky that cradles my poetic being, my sun, my venus and my moon; let me hold you I am on the edge of something that goes beyond words.
Only time will tell, residue of longing, luscious, on the edge of lower lip is truth, is fallaciousness, chained in curiosity or is merely an illusion— your lambent green eyes generate a slight intake of breath and before I could realize, I lost track of time. Come, strip the night of indecision, sometimes we just let it slip away— this love of mine is as old as the hills, cutting deep into poetry that sings, I suppose it makes sense considering I see your name and say it softly out loud; silvered, like the moon even the smallest traces of you make me radiate, make me glow,
you say I leave lipstick notes without a care in the world— only time will tell.
What more can be said that raises a faint blush on, embers of wanting smolder marmalade-like over a pair of brown eyes, copacetic these clouds murmur not a thought, not a kiss, nor a glance is forgotten– your beauty akin to a cream rosebud, to winter sunshine illuminating the trees.
What more can be said that molds the heart with such strangeness, the crescent itself seethes when I utter your name and I, seeing through pretense smile I plead pardon for having my breath perfumed—
Darkly whispering the underworld beckons, I gaze upon the flowers pinned between rocks sprouting deep purple, the violet being one to address blood consciousness. To repudiate living darkness that exists in one’s soul would be ideal, I thought to myself as I rise from dreams unreal; I bury my face in the wild storm of your being.
There is faith in the fog, I cannot see the ground and yet I tread further into the abyss of the unknown, let lips decide the distance between us love, I have witnessed many a February cold— come,
weave foolishness into my heart; it’s perfectly easy, every atom
belonging to me as good
belongs to you; what more can be said that raises a faint blush on.
Brooding, the faint slender crescent living with ache and no serious sins perhaps a memory surfaces to a mirrored abyss reaching but never truly grasping– I press my finger against the subtle breath of the East, feel its presence the churning chaos of scars long lost and forgotten, I say they evaporate or how else could I even walk on this part of the colonnade? Nearby, flowered and craving for a moment of rest. On quiet nights, in the absence of dreams, I breathe your name there are moments when vulnerability overwhelms— sliver-tongued it makes us believe unerring safety, a recherché calm and everything comes gushing out; while I, betrayed by evidence of my body’s reaction seethe, feeling no different than the crescent, than the wordless bewilderment of the East— how foolish.
And just like that the ocean unfurled opening up
to his inquiring brow and steel blue gaze. She wrote words on waves of wanting, sustaining a half smile, a whisper and pain
hiding behind fuchsia lips; knowing he understood her both wild and tame.