Free Verse # 208 (how could escape you?)

How could I escape you? – you whose breath is to my skin what water is to life.

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The fires of hell
into your cup I’ll pour,
with the waters of heaven
wash your naked soul.

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With the thirst of a desert that hasn’t seen a drop of rain in a hundred years I ache for you.

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Between your soul and mine
poetry, in an eternal migration,
ripples the whole sky.

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I am a poet whose feather drinks from his own blood, goes on scribbling, but all it manages to paint is your face in the sky.

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Free Verse # 207 (drunk on love’s potion)

In the auburn glow
Of her blood stained kiss
All his poems melted
Into vaporous rivers
And coursed, sighing,
To her infinite womb.

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Sweetest lethargy!
Drunk on love’s potion, they sank,
Blissful, ecstatic,
Aware of nothing except
How their bodies merged and wept.

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He laid anchor in her heart
Thinking it was an eternal port,
But lo! it was an ocean
Wider than the sky.

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Etched with his tongue
His words were sown in her like seeds.
After the long winter,
In the arms of spring,
The seeds awakened
And she became his song.

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From her wild breasts
He drew sustenance,
Sun, air, water, earth,
As over her he grew like a tree
That now reached for eternal skies.

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The world a ripe star
crushed between their bodies,
its white, burning wine
covering the great sky.

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I am made of longing, and every whisper my soul heaves cuts a little deeper into the fire that I am.