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2/08/2015

Flames

It is the cool glide of ink
That leads her-
Hand goes heart-ward
Breeding, kneading
The toughness from its flesh:
The beat is back.


It is him, The Moon, cool pull
Dragging the blood through her veins.
The tide is crimson and
Thick, quick as sand
The sorrow has ebbed,
The storm has stilled.

The stars are ageless
In his eyes
The sky is blue curls around
His fingers
His voice flows in waves.
The room leans in.

His words gently bend us
Trees in wind,
Collide,
Fall.
The earth is softer now.

2 comments:

Melee said...

So beautiful! That last line...! I don't know, something about it really touches me. It makes me happy you've felt this way. :)

Ever said...

Thank you.

Its good to hear from you again, friend.

XX