Separations

by Erin Duke   Mar 12, 2013


You speak a lovely language; If only I knew what it meant,

Your eyes glow and dance like moonbeams; Yet, I cannot see,

Your touch is so soft and complete; Even so, I am a thousand miles away,

Your form and figure carved with gentle swells and curves; A map my withering hands will never know,

Your lips taste of sweet honey; But that moment to taste passes by.

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