language spun in gold thread,
growing flowers in ancient worlds of love
I've lacked the feeling for,
for too long
your touch makes every other bed feel so wrong.
for years I've been cold;
yet you seem to be an exception -
in rays of unbiased love,
how could i deny your perfection?
in morning black coffee, your eyes form,
making return to new york a bit harder
than predicted,
No doubt i'll miss your warmth,
your breath, dance, song; unprecedented
See,
Bed always occupied with mere lust and
my lack of will to call back;
yet you were woven out of something other -
Radiance, light,
like wine i'd keep drinking; just give me another