Balled and rolled
But never been told
What was once tied
Will set loose and die

I always feared that when he touched me
he would draw back his hand in disgust.
Instead he holds me like old pages
chasing the foxes
he holds me like delicate lace
tracing each vine
and makes me feel rare
and beautiful.

Puffs of thistledown
floating in the air.

Lovely lady
dark blue plums
and the tracery of lace.

'Toot' says a trumpet
to the cry from a clarinet.

Tinkling piano notes
flowing
lilting, rippling, fleeting
fleeing.

Bows, strings and violins.

Echoes of yesterday
fading into grey.

Bleed into me with your all;
You're already alive within my bloodstream

Sheer shades of red
Sitting tightly on my hip
Enhancing my perfections
And disguising my flaws
An illusion of lucent confidence
In my own skin
Feeling your heated presence
In my midst
You amorously gaze
At your Aphrodite
Your muse
Glowing like ember
Creating a lustful aura
Surrounding us both
Those sheer shades of red
Are a wonder to us all

She turns her head from it;
I turn my back to it;
It faces them in their deflection, they who are ruled by planetary alignment, they who spill rogue waves from calm mouths, just as the lace crashes and pools around bare legs and lips -
Any enigma free from transcription lies within the chasm, who sleeps buried deeply between two bodies, too deeply, it has been said, though perhaps for the best, as the truths who precede intent rest there as well.
We, the sea, urge in ad hominem, convinced of indelibility, consistent in breakage and dispersment of that which is built from and upon determined chaos.
Her, I, the sea.
Our madness.
I turn towards it; she turns to face it;
The sea has drawn it's long breath
We reach for the exhale with open palms, never closed, for the retreat is inevitable.