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Salve of Touch

With a smooth dalliance of silk,
lingering its adhesion on, every
fragment, all relics akin to the
stretch of thought enrapt within

Iron’s hot. Pressed.
flesh to skin, stray a bit longer,
while the body confuses your pores
for my own, commingling in excuses
we’ve only just begun to truly get to know

As a sculptor does, mold we shall
your artistry upon the easel of my soul,
tracing every outline you’ve ever made
simply for sensualities sake…in you
A haven I have entered…in me, I can only
hope, you’ve found a purpose for direction

A world is scattered in the simple space—the imaginary
boundaries born between your form and the one I claim
as my own…press to press, fire’s blaze…passion stares…
until the madness fades…yet when it refuses cease its dance…
then…it’s then, and only then…its time you acknowledge—meeting
one another was much more plotted than we could deem…yet deem, in
such a case, and solely in one as such, we must account the consideration that perhaps this docile passion afire cannot be tamed, for it’s love can burn a forest of deceit with but a single sweep of breath…and needn’t speak as much as other unions may…for in each other’s eyes, chapters evolve as only precious intricacies might…meeting you, one another fresh anew, was never something we can simply chalk to chance….for this strand
inoculations turn in fear
as this is the love
our parents warned
us of, if lucky, we’d
walk into, unarmed,
despite knowing
when it was near

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About hobgoblin2011

I'm a poet and aspiring screenwriter/songwriter with a passion for film, art, photography, philosophy and heavy metal. I love reading, mainly non-fiction, comic books, graphic novels, myth and reference. Family always comes first for me. I'm a proud father to two wonderful pups and two curious cats. I'm also a glutton for punishment aka the life of being a diehard Buffalo Bills and Sabres fan.

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