I let no lover loose my hair. No lips,
No kisses trace the contours of my cheek.
I let no whispers brush my fingertips;
In love I do not let my lovers speak.
But hands I do allow, and silk and steel,
If this is where my lover takes delight.
I make no pledge, no promise to reveal
The patterns of my passion in the night.
Just once I yielded: breath upon my skin,
Your mouth upon my mouth, a moment’s lapse.
I came too far. I let you breathe me in
And catch me in that deadliest of traps.
Unbind me now, let down my tangled hair.
Love, speak my name, release me to the air.
Search through the fog
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© Christine Hanolsy 2012. Unless otherwise indicated, all text on this blog is copyrighted and may not be copied, reproduced, or distributed without permission.
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