Love, Face, Skin

 

Love

 

My deer, I am your headlights, the pool to your reflection.

 

I am the forest of your trees, the wind which sussurates your branches, the sepia foliage at your naked feet.

 

Face

 

I hold that precious orb in tremulous hands: the golden fleece, grey pools, a flaring nostril, your cornered lips aflutter.

 

My tongue makes love to your penumbral smoothness.

 

Skin

 

Sheathed in translucence you are, draped in the parchment of your life, a venous palimpsest, the sanguine estuaries, throbbing pulse.

 

I lay my hands on this partition, I knock, you let me in.

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