……over the edge

 

I want to hold you in the cleft of my heart, in the fold of my arms, in the stroke of my tongue, in the purse of my lips, –

but apparently such poetry is declined and childlike games are all she wants of me?

Copy this that I have written as verse because when I am gone the technology of these contact finger letters will be employed to find other ways to bring you joys and juices and ecstasy you thought you would never find. My love my instant verse may not be sublime but brings my true heart shape to your mind?

I weep that all I can give is small moments of secreted joy pushed into folds of silk laid passage the rhythms of our togetherness are not lost with muscular stress and breath is never wasted on a heartbeat of disturbance unqualified, because without passion there is no match, without your silk purse lips, no home nor lasting emission.

your lover