Little by little it comes; Building drip to falling drop. Tiny explosions shatter, rippling Into a thousand points of their self. Descending damp dampens sounds
Turning. He leads. Rising. She follows. Taking. He gives. Giving. She receives. Touching. He ignites. Sighing. She sings. Roaring. He soothes. Gasping. She opens. Opening.
Originally posted on The Modern Leper.:
“When you go up a bit, you gain. When you go down a bit, you feel disappointed, gloomy, lost. …
Meandering me. Moss hanging and swaying, Beckoning in the breeze. Water lapping gently As thoughts work west. Yearning you. Grey gloom paints the sky Dulling
This won’t be a long one…but it says what I want it to. I’ve seen more than a couple blog posts recently where the writers
Breath upon breath does nothing to ease the tide In the silence that followed her plea. Down cast eyes fail to return her to her.