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About This Poem
More Snippets
I.
Bleeding --
a world without comfort --
lost without love --
no destination...
silently walk
without touching wounds...
where is love?
II.
Frail fingers grope...
sodden afternoons...
winter fog...
through gray eternity --
cold eyes,
delicious mouth.
Found love will laugh,
desire returning.
III.
Making love,
we deceived ourselves.
Complicitors, we lied.
Compliant pawns,
we defied danger,
practiced brilliant fabrication --
but truth was stranger.
IV.
Others know desire:
ever changing years -- and lifetimes --
reaching towards the moon.
Love, be my way.
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