There are no words for this want
eating my peace.
Soft strokes of midnight
blow kisses 'cross
tomorrow, turning
ache into hope, full
filling, falling
stars of wonder: us.

There is no want for this world
without release.
Cold, blooded bones
in choate pleas.
Yore sorrow, burning
turning pain, full
pleasure into promise -
missing only touch.

There is no world for these words
Liaise on dark fields
more than less.
Unless the heavens
embrace my need, full.

~ ~ ~

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