Us
by Esther Frances
Posted: 15 December 2008 Word Count: 61 |
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Your flesh ebbs into mine
It succumbs to me
It makes a thing
A thing called 'us'
Our glimpsing moonlight
paints gentle strokes
and sculptures moments
carried in quiet breaths
Unrolling reluctant eyes
from deeper sockets
so that flesh on flesh
we cast aside reality
Each hiding in the other
Invisible yet visible
Layer upon layer
of who we really are
It succumbs to me
It makes a thing
A thing called 'us'
Our glimpsing moonlight
paints gentle strokes
and sculptures moments
carried in quiet breaths
Unrolling reluctant eyes
from deeper sockets
so that flesh on flesh
we cast aside reality
Each hiding in the other
Invisible yet visible
Layer upon layer
of who we really are
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