Thursday, May 14, 2009

Shiver.

Glance, and Heaven
tip-toes in, disarming
and warming and tenderly
then,
Stop. Your world stands still
and mine revolves around our. . .
I'm not allowed to say the word.
(But soon I will.)
I will.

And standing, spaced,
the cold rain aches
against my skin.
I think of when you
hold me close,
and ache again.
Every precious word
still bites my tongue
in silent waiting
(yet, a smile):
read through my windows
for a while,
the feelings in their movement
without explanation.

The thought of souls so close
and quivering,
it stirs the warmth of sweet sensation--
God has stitched two hearts,
and better,
stitched them into one.
(You're mine.)
The warm, deep-settling in
this chill,
you walk toward me
(in thoughts; dreams; waking).
You're there,
right there;
l*** in the making
sparks in the cold and
makes me shiver.

-L.E.
May 4, 2009

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