Thoughts Returned

I…
am not an author,
I am not a poet,
I am only what I am
and that is in transition,
that is only me.


Completion in love,
with love,
of self and the other;
fulfilled yet separated from
that essence which is poured
into the vessel.


Touches that burn
and scar
and torment
the body
though somehow lost
in the realms of mind.
Fingertips,
tracing treasure maps
across the soul
into the body.


A kiss filled
with escape,
bitterness,
and tears of and for the past.
It lingers for a moment,
upon my lips,
within my thoughts.
I can't escape
from dreaming
till that kiss
startles me awake.


Your understanding
is lost in your past
as I am lost
in your present.