Archive
11/07/11 - (2)
Pretend
One more melancholy again, After sharing infinite closeness, intimate devotion, We find ourselves in different spaces, Gazing, dazedly, into crowds of vacant strangers, Trying, fecklessly, desperately, To reach out, touch each other's flesh, Embrace the affection our separation stalemates.
But my tongue can't recreate your supple tastes, Nor your lips approximate the sweet quiver of my body. What do you suggest we do, Linda, During this unremitting distance of our abstinence? The best I can recommend is for us to pretend That these dozen endless days Portend our hearts' never being apart again.
11/07/11 - (2)
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