I'm down in my bones,
feeling their grooves and curves.
I'm touching the finite edges of my being
and feeling the distance I make as I grope.
I can only imagine the skin attached to these bones,
the color, the texture, and the scent.
I imagine my face being drawn toward the scent,
undeniable and blameless.
My eyes move across the surface like velvet
and with a lust no eye can savor.
I yearn to pluck such soft strings,
feel favor as it burns in my fingers.
I have scratched the insatiable itch
and the doubt that leaves its reminder.
I envision perfect bliss
in the serenely devoted face of my dreams.
The hand that reached for mine gave truth and I was free.
If there is no garden or other world,
I will not bear dissevered passion.
The flight that would ensue would take me
beyond majestic earthly manifestations of Heaven.
My happiness will not be true
until I have suspended this divine passion.
Cara Hawkins 9-10-09
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