i had a dream that we danced within walls that weren't ours
that we twirled together in the corpse of a smoke riddled chorus
my hand reaching behind your back fingers gingerly rough around your waist
below your second skin pulling you close
your hands keeping our eyes angled one hundred and eighty precious degrees
each meeting it's match in our fevered heartbeats
yearning enriched with a flick of your hips
descending ascension in a swirl of pale mist
paying scholarly attention as we'd read lips
Comments
-
I hung this up on my celling a long time ago.. and today I was was laying on my bed looking up at the celling and I saw this poem. It brought back the 'good-times' ... and made me think of how great of a writter you are. And how I fucked up big time! :/
All-in-all, I'm glad you happy Gregory! -
I don't need a picture of you. I have your words...
-
You should write a book of all the poems you've written...
It'd be a best seller for sure... : ) : )
Adding your comment:
