Luna di Miele

Subsisting on a diet
of dry kisses
and casual touch
I fear my famished heart
might faint,
the want is such –
the frustration,
the asynchronicity
of passion’s ebb from me,
and flow
to where I do not know.
Would that I could
mark it like the tides
or count its beats in even bars
anything besides
this unpredictable
silence falling,
just as my woman’s heart
is calling your name.

 

Thoughts on the Fourth Chakra

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