so sentual, the secrets were sentimental - swayed and made silly but never sterile - sweet secrets swelled and so well up heald in this cage. so the lady came down from falling - a stumble through every page- a belated beloved worth the while but never the wait so she took the bait - steped straight into a somber state... and now, the idea brings such a smile - little to do but inflate. and though it is a ritual made past - when eyes are shy and batting begins - tiredness unfolds my heavy lids - i dream - of a meeting with him where hands can extend and fingertips will impend a light feeling grazing over giving full invitations to touch a secret stranger. a greeting cradled in dreams - how profoundly profane your eyes might wince at me, in reality, and i know how logical lives become with a sense of seporation- but dreams - dreams show me how hurried a belated love could become. so we were too different - opposed, at times, offended - and now opperative - some how, severely content. and how wise he has been all this time, an impression made on me that will stand the test -
i confess. and how feeble a frightened figment can find the fiction in my eyes, a shameful loss never prepped for prevention- i stand with conviction in my chest - where an over flowing feeling once did rest... beneath the sternum - dead center between both breasts. a feeling as real and brief as a single breath... and every breath there after. until death.