Friday, September 19, 2008

Your Touch

I’m tortured
by the rememory
of your touch:
the way
you held my neck
as we kissed,
colored by
artificial lights
blinking and swirling
about our
blended minds,
our melding worlds,
our synchronized
It is the drug
of preference,
the drink
of the night,
the lullaby
that sings me
to sleep
with dreams
and nightmares
It’s what drives
me both away
and to
the place my mind
suddenly resides.

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