like the great storm of 1703

outside, a rain is pattering
on overburdened streets,
inside, a secret incense,
kept warm by you and me

you’re a gathering of honey
for my eyes to see,
silhouettes of past remembrances,
displayed for honoring

smoke ladened lips swirl with a taste
of old forgotten memories,
this dew feels good against the fingertips
serene on tongues that speak,
of truths beyond the ocean floor
a brush against my cheek

I feel you near
like bones in skin
like fragile limbs
going upstream

you make raised tides seem less obscene
when arms splay out
a roughened love,
that’s miles apart in symmetry

take what you will
I’ve got enough,
it’s all I’ve got,
so Dear,
fret not

…be gluttonous,
I’ve got enough
be full my love,
and let us slough
this old skin off…

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