They are
monotony.
Pulchritudinous
aesthetics,
Alleviation
to
seclusion.
Do you not feel the heat – my wrist on yours
burn tales more rich than ours on nights more dark
than souls too tense to feel the eyes of God
draw shame on backs of necks so close?
Or is it
just me?
Conjuring
fraudulence
Accrediting
ludicrous
buoyancy
I know its there I know the life that flows
through limbs of mine can move through cloth to touch
the skin of yours I hear your eyes I see your voice
I breath you in why else are we so close?
And
innocent
And
serene
And
happy
And
secluded.
How can you sit not feel those things I feel
not think those thoughts I think not see your wrist
sink in to flesh as soft and pink as lips
I long to taste? We are al-ways al-ways
al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways
so close...
They are
tolerable
Doused
ardor
maybe.
Benumbed
incandescence
maybe.
But still
They are
here.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:43 PM UTC
They are
monotony.
Pulchritudinous
aesthetics,
Alleviation
to
seclusion.
Do you not feel the heat – my wrist on yours
burn tales more rich than ours on nights more dark
than souls too tense to feel the eyes of God
draw shame on backs of necks so close?
Or is it
just me?
Conjuring
fraudulence
Accrediting
ludicrous
buoyancy
I know its there I know the life that flows
through limbs of mine can move through cloth to touch
the skin of yours I hear your eyes I see your voice
I breath you in why else are we so close?
And
innocent
And
serene
And
happy
And
secluded.
How can you sit not feel those things I feel
not think those thoughts I think not see your wrist
sink in to flesh as soft and pink as lips
I long to taste? We are al-ways al-ways
al-ways al-ways al-ways al-ways
so close...
They are
tolerable
Doused
ardor
maybe.
Benumbed
incandescence
maybe.
But still
They are
here.