The need from your bones to mold right up against someone else’s
Bones that wouldn’t be mine anytime soon
All in Poetry
CAROUSEL
We don't have to be their
beholders
or tenants
GIVE ME A TOUCH OF YOUR FINGERS ON MY SKIN (OR THE SUNBATHERS)
Give me an unforced
touch of your
fingers on
my skin.
the handiwork of mine
“It was wonderful to catch up
with you, my friend”
'touch'
Doesn’t mean my touch
can’t be just as much
tender.
This is close enough
We pass with barely a glance
And explain the magic of all
We have found and shared through whispered secrets
A doubtful confession
Traditional ideas of love never really made sense to me.
Lean On / Idea
until someone’s idea / becomes a reality / and fulfills that empty promise / of “love”
anything for you
never a larger divide than when I pull at your orbit
I’m Mad Because You Told Me It Was Impossible
I was healthy and you told me I was sick
Object of Desire
Intruders live in your head.
I’m not saying all of that
Sorry [about what could have been – but trying to be less sorry for who I am].
Such New Light / All of Us Enthralled
Thank you for showing me
This new and dappled world.