gnaws on lurking snow.
Skin melts to skin as I draw you in.
How do we stumble
across what makes us alone
into this radiant knitting of bone?
Your heart drives my blood.
My arms swathe your moans,
breathe with your lungs.
Too many years without you,
frosted with pain for so long, gone
like moon shadow in a blaze of dawn.
How do we stumble
ReplyDeleteacross what makes us alone
into this radiant knitting of bone?
ah, we are so darn lucky. stumbling, it is ... though one might say that you were paying attention as you bumbled ... and therefore are so lucky.
Paying attention now. Yes sir but getting here was blind instinct, like a moth to a flame. I am just thankful for the magical nature of the universe!
ReplyDeletemd