The siren of your hands;
two beasts strangling one another-
a confrontation deprived of my pleasure.
The untamed things of your lips;
rockets of proverbials-
a haunting I could never kiss.
Our stories slow dancing,
tracking mud all over the living room floor.
It’s a distance we couldn’t close--
To sit on our hands and wait,
for a future date.
So, steady is the gaze of such a titan,
that in silence recedes from the horizon.
