A kiss in a ghost room, fingertip skin glisten
The clock in the hall counts its gears
Shadows adjacent with ears to wall listen
Take notes in a book made from wasted years
Secrets construct a room made of flowers
Oblivious of the clock and its ignorant hours
They fall trough the air their bodies remain
The taste of the world, the core of the flame
He lifts up the curtain that swallows the sun
She breathes from the heart of the stars’ aqualung
He kneels at her alter his life to confess
She worships the hem of her self undressed
The veins of gold that run through her heart
Preclude all lovers who forget their part
In the ballroom daze of bedroom dreams
Where well-planned lives fall apart at the seams
His fingers fumble her mourning buttons
Pulls a thread of stitched-back patterns
On the lip of tomorrow his mark to render
Soul kisses fade made infinitely tender
By glissando pearl on powder cheek
By the red rising tide a beach to seek
By dew drop drained from tongue to finger
By the monsoon delta where memories linger
These ghosts relegate their cares to debates
On the relevance of analytical thinking
The universe vibrates in little earthquakes
Light discharges through stars unblinking
April 2009
1 comment:
VERY NICE!
(not a wisecrack)
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