The Wind

The wind marks my cheeks with suckling lips,
his words a caress on my forehead and hips.
The love of the birds carried softly to roam
around my naked soul, craving to sing along –-
to learn the tune and unslave my tongue
from the bitter taste of the unused thoughts
now pouring down these whistling halls

thus I try to sleep next to him in a freshened way
as our hearts match up in an unembodied self
composed not of blood but of vaporous sweat
that is spilt on dreams always ready to be shared
striving to find their way down to a page
that will bring what was said into a living flame

yet when leaves murmur sweet delights to my arms
my fingers are moistened by a breath of delight
blown out lovingly over my heart’s long stems
which were once lit candles, now darkened and glum
for their smoke has rushed upwards to meet the air —
to hug him and flood his every thought and pore
with a lust unknown to those imprisoned by flesh

and as my voice carries tears in one hand
and stories inked tightly on its scarred back,
our breaths become one under the falling drops
who long to make love alongside us.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s