.
No Names
Gratified, I lie on my bed of roses.
His eyes on the letters that I am creating.
My
dreams under the feet of these moments we create.
Living, under the shelter of his eye brows.
My words live to their last.
And I become a slave to that language of no words.
His lips, touching the petals of my breath.
My body safe in him from the rules of sanity.
Once again, I fail to wrap us in mere letters.
We play the symphony of insanity.
And breathe the whiff of purity.
What was dark and what might rise?
Falls behind the look in his eyes.
I fear the dark but love the feel of the fear.
The stillness in his touch is rushing the course of my life.
This cant be a love song.
For love songs have a name.
This is a bond without a name.
Without a sound.
Without a beat.
Without an end.
Published: August 08, 2007
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