I, hear the sound of music in the wind,
know my ever changing and four chambered heart longs
at times to be the only dancer
swung about on the floor as dawn cracks
Back to living in a community of closed doors and open faces, I know that every word has the chance to echo across the peripheries and that echos boom where as spoken words are pushed through sweat matted hair in the secret silence, the space between lips and eyes wide open and the feeling of cold skin warming to the touch.
Echos of the past linger in my heart and I speak quietly, with my fingers and eyes. I find solace in the bottle, I find joy in the night, I fight all my urges and it ends up all the same.
Distant lands and another life linger in my fingertips.
I do not need to write or even rewrite history because now is potent. I am looking into the depths of my heart and know there is an ever growing lasting supply.
Intolerant of the natural spectrum of relation I delve into the invisible connection of desire's lubricating balm. In being a mistress, in being a survivor, in choosing the skin to put next to me I believe myself to be safe from the qualms and quandaries of human nature. I am all boots.
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