a fast splash of cold water.
do i feel better?
pining for the next step.
do i miss you?
nights happen to just come.
do i leave you behind?
obscene invisible curtains before my eyes.
do i come closer to you?
a very inappropriate familiar couch.
do i feel your breath?
we've let them sleep.
does this mean we're cool?
i lie here, you kneel beside me.
do i stay?
you let me for the next move.
do i wait for another moment?
up one shoulder,
i swallow your breath.
a tiny smooth luscious meeting.
we lose it.
famished.
thirsty.
breathing's tearful
we bleed trembling.
fingertips are numb.
hands ruminating
reading, memorizing.
loudly silencing
wallowing in a kaleidoscope
in creamy liquids
embosomed steaming
yet hungry
yet thirsty
astounded
by the arriving
calmness of a sage
faces, fragile as whatever is sacred
rushing blossoms
i touch with utmost care
and you hold with most delicacy
still we bleed, a desire.
we let ourselves the next move.
do i ever wanna move?
we stand up
we walk
we sleep
probably, will wake up.
as nights happen to just come,
cores will pull, to survive.
2 comments:
...and "moves" lead us to what one might say "learning". "Learning" in the Carroll-ian sense. Puns and puzzles maybe. We "move" somehow. We "move" to learn.
wallowing in a kaleidoscope
ruminating, reading, "learning" why not?
and we "move" somehow, as has been with puns and puzzles.
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