As it touches

Butterflies blinking on your shoulder.

Trout whispers under their crystalline curtain.

Love fills this cave as we yearn for the drowning.

Our last sorrows gasping.

Old selves turned crispy.

A delicate, empty cicada.

As my fingers make camp in the valley of your spine.

Gone are all the hungry coyotes.

This fire crackles for our sake.

Lightspeed through a vacuum of lonely.

Sparks launch our tale into the milky way.


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Categorized in: ... August 22, 2011 10:58 pm Tags:

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