Walking through the streets with all these dreams and ghosts, caught by a shiver of moon, a passing cloud – a passing moment of perfection in a sigh of stars, that bathe me in their distant glory. Walking through the streets, my heart a waiting murmur, my lips now pause for breath, one word: your [...]
Tonight I’ll disconnect the phone and lock all doors and close the curtains. It will be me and my TV, some sushi maybe and some wine. The couch and comfy cushions now a small tropical island in a sea of quiet bliss. I’ll start with something light and frothy – something that will make me [...]
The glamour of your face, your hair now loosened in dark waves: the sudden rightness of these moments – all of me now here in trembling awe, kneeling (praying) tongue-tied to your flesh and rising heat. (I need – I need so much to see you, taste you on my skin, embrace you and lay [...]
(I can see the shape of your dreaming and touch the stem of your breath.) Your lips surround me now. You take me in, like flames that taste the heart of the wood, and words on skin or bone-carved flutes, like a shock of warmth, as the butcher’s hand or a priest holds up [...]
The grain of the wood, fastened and softened by time and breath; these pebbles so smooth, coated and left with the silk of dead waves – and you, all of you, your flesh so awake to my longing, my touch, are more beautiful yet than all these reminders that night will embrace us and change [...]
Waking to the moment of your touch I hold my breath and body like an altar, like a kiss. (I want to hold your breath upon my tongue; I want to weigh your touch upon my skin.) As the light needs an horizon to submit its colours to the weight of night (I want your [...]
You’re like a Rembrandt, painted on the edges of slow moving, moonlit clouds, a promise that the world is full of wonders, new beginnings and encounters. My love, you’re all the stories that will start tomorrow or tonight, and all the waiting turned to soft applause and laughter, all the moments that are left for [...]
And when it ends it grows so quiet. Logic has a weight to it and so does magic. Love, when it is gone, moves beyond time and distance and it grows so quiet.
Some journeys start like stories, some like dreams. (I can see the shape of your dreaming and touch the hem of your breath; these sheets, dressed in darkness, touching your flesh.) Strange journeys, strange frontiers, where some things end in stories, others move like dreams. (I can’t see my skin through these fields of you; [...]