(O
that my tongue were in the thunder’s mouth! Then with passion would I shake the
world. – Shakespeare)
the
sunshine saturates your hair
breathless,
all i can do is stare
hair
and shirt, bright red radiance
my
every thought is decadence
window
shop displays, in the way
you
look but all i want to say
can’t
we just move along this date
to
what we do when it is late
where
we are standing at your door
instead
of “goodnight” my kiss implores
for
invitations to your charms
incarcerated
in your arms
as
moonlight mimics my caress
and
with a whisper i confess
my
sigh is just a compromise
for
your beauty i would die
for
no face or form could compare
to
that which locks me in a stare
remiss
to kiss and know the bliss
of
turbulence and tenderness
where
passion becomes a performance
alleviation
in accordance
***
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