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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required “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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