1969

June, it passes without a breath.
In this room, the day met it’s death.
I see sweet seduction in bare skin,
sucking on an ice cube from a glass of gin.
The sunlight gold becomes the moon’s white.
That smile, that warmth, this appetite.
If angels know passion, let this spell be.
If only demons work flesh, cast me into the sea.
I want to go to you, and know you, open those doors.
I want to go to you, but not spill blood from my wars.
In the moon’s white we illuminate the divine eyes.
A dream of solace in touch and in passionate sighs.
Lay close to me, your flaxen hair soft as heaven’s silk.
Let it bring us close to life, let us not choke on the devil’s milk.
Let the name I chose for you become a sacred rhyme.
Let us be humble and whole, this time.

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