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Age
discovered
a heavy
door
and gently
pushed
to look
inside
and as
it looked
it pushed
some
more
and I
ran out
of time
to hide
I live with all the women I've broken
in a cottage in the country
and in the evening we drink tea.
We talk sometimes of love
but mostly we speak
of how much we hate me.
I remember her.*

On days like these,
she would light up
a few oriental sticks
to make our house
smell like lavender.

On days like these,
she would make some tea.
She had her own rituals,
she dried some herbs,
by the window,
and,when i think about it ,
her hair smelled like lavender.

On days like these,
she would take long showers,
and sit by the fire,
waiting her hair to dry,
and i would kiss her skin,
and touch her body,
which had a scent of lavander.

On days like these,
she would stay until dawn,
to watch the snow fall,
her soul had traces of lavander.

On days like these,
she would lay in bed,
she would talk to me for hours,
until all the pillows and sheets
had a smell of lavender.

on days like this i would
bring home many gifts for her,
but i picked only the ones which
smelled like lavender.


This year she is gone,
but the snow...
it has bittersweet smell
attached to it,
a smell that is familiar,
it smells like lavender.
As the matter falls around me
I know that what I call matter is all around me
And though matter molded into meaning
I go on continued disbelieving

I know the truth
I know nothing

As the world contains existence
I know that what I call the world is but an instance
And through my senses (low pass filters)
All but truth can be delivered

I know the truth
I know nothing
These are song lyrics I wrote that were inspired by Apology by Plato.
http://classics.mit.edu/Plato/apology.html
plucks            all                 her

He                                         privacy

She                              moans
merrily
Pelvic bone to pelvic bone
We are fused together.
Some type of warped conjoined twin syndrome.
Chin to chin.
Lip to lip to lip to lip.
Our lips are touching but we are not kissing.
Cheek to cheek.
Fingertips scarping against fingertips.
There’s a theory in physics
That states
You are never really touching anything,
Only the space in between.
Sometimes I think we are the very definition of this theory.
We push closer
But we never touch.
I cannot feel your kiss pressing up against my neck.
I cannot feel your teeth tugging at the skin on my collarbone.
I cannot feel your saliva intermingling with my own.
You are sitting next to me on the couch
But I do not feel
The bend your body makes.
I do not feel the dip of cushion.
Your hand is nothing more than
An anchor keeping me grounded on Earth.
We are perpendicular lines
But it feels like we’re parallel
You
have the devils eyes
and a smile that could ****
one look at you
makes me want to
commit a thousand sins
give you my soul
walk through your fire
do every
single thing to you
that your
body desires
Every word has
a pulse. Every poem
has a heartbeat* ~
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