Talk to me through painted glass.
Your image matched
To the ebb and flow of secrets inside the colors
Position waning into sky
Struck down, materially tied
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
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.