Monday, April 14, 2014

Clarimonde (14)

the deal was nearly struck,
the final prayer was moistening
my tongue, my body tensed
in reverence until I felt the
cold fire of your eyes
burning through the fog
of righteousness.
I raised my face from
my god to be lost in yours.
I stumbled through the veil
of a profaned ritual into a
new world. Lost in a virgin
clarity to seek the chilling
brand of your sacred touch



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