Jul
4th
Wed
4th
What’s Love
Her love
drools down the insde of her legs
The alpha and omega lies
between her widely spread thighs
I pray into the curve of her breast
As I ease into creation
as close to heaven as this soul will ever get
Our cries are prayers in the
night temple
the muffled weeping
of virtue lost
Now a partially decayed memory
can’t even remember her name
Can no longer feel the touch of her flesh
against mine
time heals all
time tears memories from desperate clutching hands
leaves us forlorn and weeping
in the temple of the night
