HIS DARK SIDE

His Dark Sutra: Your Breath Nourishes Me

I’ve been staring out of this window for a few minutes, in between sips of coffee. 

Seated alone in Starbucks.

Remembering love…

I’ve never felt more alive in my life, than those few moments I sat with you.

And now…

Now I’m lost 

and bewildered 

and hurting…

Your subtle movement hushed as you glide under my skin. I feel you swooning between strands of muscle over my deltoid, lilting down the ropy binds of my back and sliding into my spine. The soul of my body that lives in your body, comes home to me.

My body is a candlelit hall which you visit. Your bare feet walk, gently padding over wooden floors inside the midnight hour. Your flamed iridescence lights me, causing the shadows in the cobwebbed corners of my dark edged being, to cower and crawl. 

Your mouth is the wardrobe, where knotted oak panelling protects me and gives me shelter from evils that scrape nails against my bed frame when my room is soaked in black icy night.

Your hands brush my thigh and the warmth of your palm permeates my skin, traveling beyond time, heating my childhood and masking dank walls drenched in the tears of a bewildered boy.

And with each breath that I inhale from your mouth, I learn to live once more. Your exhale nourishes me, for I am a mere scavenger of love, abandoned and enfeebled by every person  who wasn’t you. 

Come close lover. 

What use is my frame when my soul has taken residence in your lips?

His Dark Sutra: Your Breath Nourishes Me

I’ve been staring out of this window for a few minutes, in between sips of coffee.

Seated alone in Starbucks.

Remembering love…

I’ve never felt more alive in my life, than those few moments I sat with you.

And now…

Now I’m lost

and bewildered

and hurting…

Your subtle movement hushed as you glide under my skin. I feel you swooning between strands of muscle over my deltoid, lilting down the ropy binds of my back and sliding into my spine. The soul of my body that lives in your body, comes home to me.

My body is a candlelit hall which you visit. Your bare feet walk, gently padding over wooden floors inside the midnight hour. Your flamed iridescence lights me, causing the shadows in the cobwebbed corners of my dark edged being, to cower and crawl.

Your mouth is the wardrobe, where knotted oak panelling protects me and gives me shelter from evils that scrape nails against my bed frame when my room is soaked in black icy night.

Your hands brush my thigh and the warmth of your palm permeates my skin, traveling beyond time, heating my childhood and masking dank walls drenched in the tears of a bewildered boy.

And with each breath that I inhale from your mouth, I learn to live once more. Your exhale nourishes me, for I am a mere scavenger of love, abandoned and enfeebled by every person who wasn’t you.

Come close lover.

What use is my frame when my soul has taken residence in your lips?

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