Throw the rope,
Far from your neck,
We have broken enough
Needing a kiss,
To soak our hands in each other’s blood,
To bury our lips in each other’s soil
Where the aftermath can be attained,
Deep in a tantrum of wilderness.

With warmth,
Without coldness,
Upon summer’s attire,
Without the furs to cloak our bareness,
We can read
Fine print barely legible.
I feel
Wilted flesh, to unseal.

I stroke,
I grasp
Feelings that will not last,
Though can make an eternity
With its foundation of love.

Two eyes,
Two hands,
And a thousand running kisses
Brought from oceans of crystal,
Wherever tears descend.

Something that can
Wash skin with music,
Of sighs,
Of waters to bright eyes.

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