The Gold

House of Heart

Nights while you sleep  my lips are so close I can draw your breath in like an infant at its mother’s breast. I  run my fingers down the curve of your spine leaning in to inhale your scent.  I have entered that golden part of you, immersed the sea that claimed me in oceans of fiery sunsets.  When our hearts grow mute we will know we we  have drifted too near the sun.

 

art by Karol Bak

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