I feel you close to me;
invisible, wrecked and solitary,
tangled in the webbed sigh of my worries
my tardiness—my soul weariness.
You’ve ambled towards my perfect nightmare
and I, breathless,
have fled your perfect dream.

Both of us are pollinating each other
blossoming, seeding ourselves in
the soft pants of dark night;
where our hearts sail unleaded by the maze of
breathless proximity,
orchestral and divine,
We resound like a song of war and love,
bathing ourselves
in the sweaty musk of intimacy.

And lost though we may be,
the dented frontiers of night always
provide rendezvous— the secret gardens
from which dreaming, we meet each other.
And swooning, holding hands, trapping words, and
breathing in soulful sighs;
we draw from each the bright lamp of life,
we sail to seal our fates by the absence of shadows
in the dusk—
we become the seam of threaded dreams.


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