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.
