Object in Desire

Infinite white light under cover
Canopied purity
Profound illusive immaculateness.

We, too, want to live deeper
In its breadth.

But

Freedom disturbs us.

It assumes
Within lucidity
There is nothing to hold us
From our dreams.

Logic conceals
Why with head risen
I trace words loosely
Dangling above masculinity.

Somehow you
Follow my feminine gesture
Wipe my lips and say,

“I feel tired, too.”

Try to fall away from each other
And can’t.

Instead hopelessly bring our selves
Closer to coming into darkness.

Curling toes
In gloved hand,
Your grasp makes me
Too wounded to move.

Stretching skin
I hope to give
Weight to this lightness
Breath to cushion my conscious calamity.

Fingers insane on my skin
Become mad in the middle.

I am too dreamless to be here.

But

“We need each other now.”

Your lips pushing apart mine
Keep me from going
Make me watch downward
The art of the act,
Object in Desire.

When you break me open
Too hurt to care
I pass silently to darkness
Light coming over skin
The weight of having been within the other.

Before taking your body from mine
You press deeper
Deceiving the opaqueness of our skin
Obscuring the shallowness.

Will we be thought pure
If we seem
Intimate at eye level,
I think this is the hope.

But

Knowing it is

Too dangerous a lie
These tears too transparent
In light I close my eyes
And scar us from darkness.