|
crimson times dripping from the brush
this vermilion honeymoon rooted in aureoles and sand and lost in the dust of a future self - this fathomless lovemaking, breathing fever and half-mast evenings onto canvas and distant footsteps, this ancient longing devouring time that will never yield a word great enough to hold us
i am exhaling those blue roses for you to breathe them in i exhale my longing for you to drink this immense alluvial light and echoed floods
to breathe is to accept this lack of air, this living fire these screams this desire
as if for the time we live we could find ourselves in the indigo wind of stars
side by side |