May 2, 2010 Harold Tor

The Touch of Sight

Fingers lingering o’er your pillow
Scents of your gaze quietly billow
Staring from the depths of love
Into the swells of bitter mirth

Fingers lingering o’er my brow
Sweats of coldness overpower
Tastes of thoughts of silent walls
Round and round my guts enthrall

Fingers lingering o’er our bed
Lusting after future dead
Frozen heat of closeness round
Our love and our hearts for aeons bound

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