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Hard to see a blooming craze in the shaking mirror

Held timidly to your lips. 

Shaking hands caress the limp cheek of warm skin

Fan the desperate air in the early light.

Pool of cuddling, 

Uncomfortable truths

Of warmth and touches.

Electric presence.

Pain and seared trust descend.

Step into a new life.

A universe of meaning.

All.

Beauty in your quest, 

Butterfly wings flit from idea to 

Penetrating action.

A meaning too personal to trace

Too true.

Too vast.

To know.

Believe that such could not be tasted by anyone

Other than

You.

On your own sweet lips.

Kenmure

August 8th 2017

Modified 

20 February 2020

13 May 2020