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By darwin Date: 2003 Nov 26 Comment on this Work [[2003.11.26.09.05.10652]] |
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for storm and sea have never so fairly touched; as when our skin meets. we feel shock and sigh exultantly, our lips tremble and sigh. the salt of your body still fresh in my mouth. tasting you with every inhalation of air. my breath stilled by you. We meet over waves of color and lay on beds colored white in the midnight hour. My skin full of petals, I am a flower ripe in spring. fresh with dew I am a pomegranate as its juice falls unbidden down your chin. ________________________ sometimes I can't see any further than you. when my eyes grow tired. i grow so weary sometimes, so tired of fighting, not you, but the world. so tired of facing anger. so tired of ignorance. tired and worn, sometimes I want to fall down. so i see you. i look at you, and i feel renewal. i feel grace. i feel forgiven sometimes. for all the holy sins I've committed. i grew up with liturgy and saying prayers. from luther to papal bulls, and the year 1536. i have it all ingrained in my head, this sense of historical guilt. but i look lustfully on your body sometimes, and when you aren't naked, I want you to be. sometimes i help you with that, the moment we step through the door. your the only time I'm not tired. your not a cause i'm trying to win, an editor i write to. you aren't a protest to attend, you aren't another driver to flip off, or some suit to call a fucker. we're not written on lines of time, and we're not going to make any history books. but that's okay if we fall of the modern track. if we deny religion, and we just stay naked in infinity. that would be just fine by me. |