Building A City Of Words Instead of Saying I Love You

Bruised Rose Blossoms

In the quiet spaces of my mind
there is softly sleeping figure
with the relaxed repose of an angel.

I kiss her cheek
and lightly stroke her autumn hair
with a hope that she might slightly stir,
becoming minutely aware of my presence,
if only for an instant.

Heavenly traveler,
you are there in my dreams

laughing with me under the wild canopy
of my fluctuating soul;

in between moments
of consciousness

in between exhalations
and eye-blinks

I am caressed and buttressed
by the elegant strength
of your tender spirit.

You are freedom
after centuries of imprisonment.

You are a heavy rain
after a cruel drought.

You bring the stars
closer to my eyes.

You pull colorful spiral galaxies
toward us with your heart-bending gravity.

We explode like kaleidoscopic fireworks,
splattering a longstanding dream across the churning night sky.

Refilling our palette of sensuality with shattered rainbows,

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