center of my soul
down there in the wet hot sandy soils
down there where the black dog digs
her claws furiously tearing at the thick grainy clumps
center of my soul
an inescapable silence clouds my thoughts
like her deep eyes lingering on my open face
like her words seeping slowly across the hard wet breeze
soft finger traces figurines into the damp frosting
in the bathroom mirror
a tactile thought
a brief pinpoint of light in the darkness of her embrace
her soft tangle of skin wraps itself across the surface of me
i feel her moisture and her warmth
texture of crumpled paper burning
texture of a smoke filled room
texture of a person who allready left
joined in a single moment
by a conspiracy of lusts
joined slowly in this dark touching
united in that quick heat of wanting
never seen in her face
never hoped in my closed eyed dreaming
the silence slips slowly past our window
it is everywhere
in the damp morning grass
in the temple of night
surpassed in the vault of morning light