Love Letter From My Soul V
Dearest Soul of a Woman,
We are not to be confused of wants, of needs,
of desire
what sits upon the tip of tongue
dancing autonomously in the wind
but still
tethered to a branch
not old, not young
waiting for release, for a life,
not yet begun
what sets us free,
gives us flight, fancy
slowing of gravity pulling us down
elevation
instilling invigoration
is it love?
where we are floating through air
where pain has gone and disappeared
I am the window, you such as light
warm up the scullery
let your sun clean my night
etch circles of crystal
in jade prisms with care
beveled with yearning
where hearts will appear
soft strokes of cheek
blushed with brushed lips so so ripe
render me worthy
of this rich beauty's life
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