journal · poetry

Falling

Falling
ever-gently.
I float, as if a feather,
through the tresses of affection
into your words naked caresses,
slipping softly from those lips,
in an enchanting evanescence.
They are helping me forget
the tender, slender lies
of time and times gone by,
but as I fly and sigh
the breeze brushes me away
and I am windblown,
whirled astray,
into the freshly unearthed trials
which lurk beneath life’s tiles
yet this weightlessness
allows me to float through them.
Unscathed by all but
my own thoughts.
I ruminate;
I rue them.
Endeavor to undo them,
fruitless,
through forgetfulness,
and fall, continue falling,
while you play upon my skin
with the trembling bow
of lust’s luscious violin,
a sinful symphony.
Was this destiny or choice
and will the longing whisper
housed within my voice
be heard by you?
Untying truth,
unleashing love,
unveiling a new season,
a spring into new life or action.
No, oh no, you see
that dream is the very thing
which awaits on solid ground
and I’m still stalling,
locked within this sweet and gentle fall.
And when I reach the bottom
will I gain or lose it all?

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