thirty summer

carving words out of willows

Flimsy Fire

Dust gropes the cracks of my fingers
as rain clumsily falls, outside.
And the kisses forlorn, still lingers
in hearts where love resides.
We once were new lovers, tied in flimsy fire.
Now, we are old lovers, woven by desire.

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Thoughts before bed

Our kisses become vapor
and our hands become
a maze of marionette’s puppets.
We leave the night to her devices
and we hide away in our little room.
The breath is shallow and still
and silence marries dreams of lovers
to the lovers of dreams.