like flame her heart whistles for more, moments pass and pass; stars whisper songless words: like strings of broken lyres, she hailed on top of mountains afar screaming my name: come to me my love.
The weaking eye of a day, she’s mad over love, young and old kneeled for my presence, in vain she cries: love me for loves sake, smiling all the time, i fear to nature more- i fear to nature less,
[restrict]poor soul she’s mad over love, tear me apart; lonely eyes and minds care to know less and finger point more, despite the world i sat and gentled her with my hands, with a clear and soft comfort: her tears touched my heart,
nude beneath the sky, time blossom noiseless kisses and songs to split dry impostor bursting with almost tender care, she’s mad by love consumed, whispering lowly to the coming dawn, is it the power of love’ in her world nights are long and brutal, in her dreams i’m her soul provider.
this article was published in our print quarterly number seven, Words.
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