The Bed

our bed is a two-person island, we are castaways from other sides in its center, we are lovers making love in the art of making war, sideless we blend ripe juices of conquest surrendered and satiated like lords of the dance far away from mortal combat in the untamed jungle of our bliss, ascending and descending vagabonds on a caravan searching for the holy grail thirsty for grace sometimes the best conversation is made, sometimes we have nothing to say but sleep comes and in it we are dreamers, embracing then moving away, you on your edge, me on mine, falling.