lovers’ hearts burn brilliantly, and still they can be consumed in a rush; two locomotives starved of fuel. your perfume is an emotion, and i am always thirsty to feel that way, no matter how quickly these minutes, hours and days slip by. your leather is warm and supple, coal black and silver-zippered. one after another, streetlights wash over the worn seams and folds. as for tomorrow, you cannot count on, or count against, with whom you may fall in love. i think of you and at times it pierces; at others it soothes the pain of any loss. so what is left? a look, a word, or an embrace. the softness of your hair and skin beneath my touch. the way you breathe as you guide me. what do i expect of you? nothing. what do i want from you? everything.
Posted on: Tue, 06 Aug 2013 20:38:39 +0000
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