Free Verse # 369 (touching her isn’t enough)

Preparing the day,
your fragrance
rubbed against my neck,
you whose face
from a secret window
always shined upon my life.


Deserting my eyes
the butterflies of sleep
are fluttering somewhere
following the scent
of the flowers in your skin.


Evening wind,
her dark breath
combing the tall trees,
taking desire by the hair
and dragging her down
into the caves
deep in the womb of the sea.


Her hips swayed feline
a lioness
wearing the ocean for a mane
and preying on the best
of love and sex,
drinking the finest
of wine and poetry.


Touching her isn’t enough; I have to live inside of her and she has to live inside of me.


Photographer unknown

Joined still
when dawn breathed,
a single body
jasmine white
quivering on the breast
of sleep as it heaved.


On the altar
of her fragrance
worlds are crushed;
she is a wild flower.

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