Understanding a
person is not an
object one
acquires. Puts on a shelf. Or uses when desire brushes off
the dust. And slick as mud, two bodies unite.
Knowing in life there is a
fluidity of emotion. Sensation.
Yearning to taste
the color of passion. Drink the body. Like a book. Touch souls.
Carry arched back memories of
prayers spoken in unholy tongues.
Loving someone
enough to kiss a moment on the lips. Never
mourning the passing of
elusive communion.