let me describe this. (II)

rigid age-lines 
reduced in scores, you
reduce me to softened brows.

i hear your olive-foot steps
to living rooms where ours
might be like, and i
whirr to life like a bulb.

i hear you and i long.

.

come tackle me into the darkness and come with me to illuminate it all. tell the demons that hunt that the huntress is back and that these things will stay put like shelved thoughts.
let your laughter ring in the very eaves of a home we might call ours and let the hope i find not be in squalled.
come and tell me that you feel it in your heart too. that there is a dull and roaring prowess you find in being ours and mine and yours. heal as you be.
i will wring your soles dry of their tire, and i will compliment your days aesthetic. i will sacrifice what must be done and in the midst of running don’t come undone. let me find what home you’ll love for now, one loft brick window, one key and its twin and we will bow - in old age at what we’ve done, i am a human - with you.
i hope to preserve every bit of you.  

breaks the dawn and a thousand wars, that you should be mine and
i yours.

.

Camelights 

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Posted on Thursday, 29 March
Tagged as: poetry prose L.
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