Thursday, March 12, 2009

untitled with an unimportant number attached #78

it's raining.
it's a good rain.
affably happening on the dry, desirous ground held agog in heaven's tears.
to it's thirst: unaware en masse
here holding you
pull you into my chest
lay your hands on my heart
feel the infrequent beats when you're near.
your fingers warm on my frozen bones brittle.
cradled in the palms of pursuit.
this proximity like a ticking clock
a dripping faucet
the pumping pulse you're holding.
you told me so i tasted
and you've never been this good and somehow always were. will be.
will we again tomorrow?

No comments:

Post a Comment