Love Letter From the Soul Xvi
Love,
It is not alone where fingers graze a cheek
that the softness of the skin is felt
when bathed and pampered
aloe'd and perfumed
the scent, in the stillness, is coming thru
glistening like the tips of the green green grass
freshly mowed
with the sun shinning down
on a finely tuned ...
piece of pure imperfection
I'm clover sitting close
where crimson's crushed her rose
laid in dirt,
with the inklings
unexplained
not complaining nor comparing
digging my way out
of another endless
senseless hole
weed me out and wish me luck
deflower all circumspection
we can't give in
no we can't give in
disrobe me amid anguish
wash away the heartache
and the pain
together, naked,
we'll be born again
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