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“Where is the Lover?”



Where is your Lover?
He is in your smile
where he kissed you
when you were fast asleep
bodies pressed into
burning heat
the fruits of passion 
tasted hours ago
before you walked out 
the door onto 
the white noise street
through cold mist and
falling lacy snow
you carry that kiss 
on your smile as you float,
feet off the ground
head in the clouds you go,
his scent still lingering, 
Le Habit Rouge
and rapturous Rose
and fresh cut 
Lemon Verbena
you sense him pressing
his moments 
into your valleys
and rolling curves
the point where 
lips caress 
forbidden sweets and
between your 
legs you can 
feel him still 
as you walk 
alone yet not alone
every road and 
every damned 
never ending hill to
an empty Home
Where is your Lover?
He is in the fine creases
at the corner of your eyes
where Love and his
fingers traced your
face like the softest
new born from chrysalis
fluttering butterflies
whispering
gentle torrid secrets
to you alone
you are together
in your dreams
his hushed voice 
like the sea 
whistling siren songs 
a lush pink velvet 
conch shell
cornucopia explodes
shining an ocean 
with salty waves
glistening wet
through Fibonacci
labyrinthine spirals
he runs his eyes and hands
over your sacred geometry 
you are met 
like a new map 
you’re his favourite
cartography
eyes and hands and lips 
entranced
he has you transfixed
bewitched he is dazzling
you with new found territories
and glamour spells
both your kisses
run and trip
no words pass by 
your lips 
save the Wildling
you’ll hear him,
his sighs 
and conquered 
wanton war cries,
as you
mount him 
dejavu desire 
while you are at work
disgracefully
awake and longing
for rapture to 
come and bury 
you in his fire
Where is your Lover?
In your heart
he is placed
reverently 
like God
he beats in time 
with you 
in a 
far off distant
place

You think you can hear him
You kiss his lips 
without mortal 
trace

(LadyLabyrinth/2019)
V.S.A.S.
3/12












"you taste like sunshine, 
just like you've been kissed 
by the morning light, 
and I was the darkness dancing
with the stars carelessly, breathlessly, 
and our lips meet softly, 
colour erupting in the atmosphere 
the absolute lightest darkness, 
dawn is breaking: 
a fleeting moment 
when the sun can kiss the moon..."






“Rome is not outside me, but inside me...
Her feverish sweetness,
her tragic countryside, 
her own beauty and harmony, 
all these are mine, 
for my thought and my work.”
(Modigliani)
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