I imagine our lips replicating the palms of pilgrims, touching fervently with intent,
Passion
and Love.
A love for something that exists not with us,
but an epiphany, a space of mind within our own epistemological plane that you and I may dwell in,
together.
As we fabricate a reality that exists within a space of time where it is weakened to time itself.
Our kiss is the extension of time, a creation of maddening and temporary immortality.
You and I become gods outside of time so, just like the palms of two blushing pilgrims ready stand, pray to me.
Pray to me.
And I’ll pray to you.
Oct 17, 2017
Oct 17, 2017 at 3:09 PM UTC
I imagine our lips replicating the palms of pilgrims, touching fervently with intent,
Passion
and Love.
A love for something that exists not with us,
but an epiphany, a space of mind within our own epistemological plane that you and I may dwell in,
together.
As we fabricate a reality that exists within a space of time where it is weakened to time itself.
Our kiss is the extension of time, a creation of maddening and temporary immortality.
You and I become gods outside of time so, just like the palms of two blushing pilgrims ready stand, pray to me.
Pray to me.
And I’ll pray to you.
A hopeless romantic trying to paint a beautiful picture with words.
Request permission to use this poem