Friday, January 30, 2009

500 wet tissues in this house alone.




Small is the heart that beats
through blood vessels,
but loud the voice
that calls above the riot

despite the fleeting fly of time
and resignation.

Be alive,
disrobed,

of tender night
in bed with another
flesh and soul.
Love is subtle fingers
grasping at the solidity
of the body

your breathing
beside me
and the windows
like open arms
showing the vast
sky of the future.

1 comment:

the broken down barman said...

i like "love is subtle fingers
grasping at the solidity
of the body"