Allow me to rest
by the shores
of your friendship

I have walked
day and night
to get here

I know you are tired too
your journey preceded
you have been waiting

rest on my shoulder
another
will come along
with three glasses
of lemonade

How many times
would I return
in an attempt to be the storm
that claims your heart as an abode
on a day which no longer exists

How many
to create my earth
in subtle grooves upon your back
until the seeds of every kiss
begin to live, feeling your motive
and your warmth

How many
to reclaim the fruits
of tender mornings gone
contrary to the wind as whispers
from your lips

How many before the storm's
inevitable retreat
leaving only white flags
white flags in bloom
ceding to time
as scars
and beauty marks

And how many more
would I return
before the clouds break
in the sun

I do not know

A faultless poem
inkless, without erasures
written in fixed glances
in agreement
a matchless pact

Each verse, a touch
a breath, a gaze

suddenly, their storm
unleashed
ink runs intense
crimson hearts bleed
bodies collapse

their surrender writes an end
a kiss
their thirst, a perpetual desire
to rewrite with fault
they call it a draft
and find a blank page