Talk to me through painted glass.
Your image matched
To the ebb and flow of secrets inside the colors
Blue family
Position waning into sky
Red heart
Struck down, materially tied
Orange Fire
You and me
A soul and mate fighting
At the church of lust and longing
On each side of the tinted windows.
Speak not of ‘belonging.’
Belong is a word that tells the story of musk and lavender.
Our first night
Opening myself you crawling into spaces between atoms
I would be yours still if you could shatter compressed sand.
But oh, your fists –
Disfigured blobs behind a colorful silk screen.
And where are your lips?
Thick That smoldered my mouth
Strawberries on my tongue.
Do you know I could have died with your fingers
Hugging Deep slippery places
Perfumed treasures.
I would have gone
Willingly beckoned by you.
You… these visions
Dancing in places beyond time and space
And the colored glass separating us
Yes, I love you still.
Or did I ever…?
Have I known love that I’ve known you?
Or have I been drunk?
Drugged lust playing violently
Harp strings of my heart.
Burlesque Press 