whiskied nipples against pressed palms
our damage naked, aspen.
you soul patch balm,
i bleed.
do nothing. ask it:
our damage naked, aspen.
you soul patch balm,
i bleed.
do nothing. ask it:
wonder, how did we arrive here?
it doesn't hurt. your dna covers me
and that touch: we catch of divine,
nascent. alive
ah....glad to see you posting again. missed your sensibility, Suzanne.
ReplyDeletethank you. i wonder at the idea of a "my sensibility"; you have given me pause, and thought! thank you.
ReplyDelete