Feeling is all We Have

I live in you; and you in me.

Our personalities merge lights.

Your voice is so sweet and seductive.

I hear you whisper—

to ponder danger.

You’re so literary;

to enter a man’s

mind: semi-reserved, promising pleasures, feigning scared.

We sail a river full of geese, hummingbirds, plus—chestnut

dreams. Imperfections speak of grace: a bookcase of

scholarship: a magnet in a pearl dress.

We cry of irony: two

mystics, aloof to vulnerability.

I feel such paradox: enlove

with love, afraid to love.

But ever would we love: distant,

plus—afraid, batting eyelashes, ever astray for months.

I see

you as such fever, a sea’s caprice, a floating carpet. We

would

die so often: filled with sullen laughs, mining graphic

motifs.

But we hide to sing, adrift a parachute, safe and secure.

Our

width an even length, a square circle. So I wrestle

presence,

aloof to why, ever a fantasy, and ever a dream; where life

is

riddle, another’s pain—to heal through chi.